Pop goes the... Nope, not a weasel

We live in a quiet suburban neighborhood. We are acquainted with most of our neighbors, downright friendly with some of them. The kid's schools, with above average test scores, are nearby. Insurance rates reflect that our crime, natural disaster, and death rate are respectably low. But I do bemoan the fact that there isn't a decent pub within walking distance.

That's all to say we live in a cocoon. The type of place I've always wanted to live and raise my kids. Yes, being on the edge can be exciting, desirable. But not when I have my kids walking about, property I'd prefer to keep, and a dog that likes strangers. I like my danger when I want my danger, as I choose to experience it. And with calculated levels of risk, like when rock climbing, off-roading.

Friday night was date night and we were off to visit a minor art exhibit. It placed us in a new neighborhood which meant a chance to try a new restaurant, some different food. We decided upon dinner at T's Place. They bill themselves as serving authentic Ethiopian-Asian food. Asian food is everywhere, but Ethiopean? Not so much. So we went with a veggie combo platter, the Yesomm Be'Ye'Ay'Netu. No, I can't pronounce it, but I will say it was tasty. Certainly nothing like food to be found in our neighborhood.

Afterwards we were walking about in the city. Traffic, people, buses, noise, pollution, smells. We were having fun, it had been a good evening. We had good food, conversation, and observed some thought provoking art.

POP POP.
POP.
POP POP POP.

My first thought was fireworks. Then reality sunk in. Gunshots. Close gunshots. Way to close gunshots. By the third pop we were running for cover, peeking from behind car windows. Phones were coming out, some calling 911, some trying to take a picture of an event that couldn't be seen and had already finished.

Then there were some cries, screaming. A car sped off, another crept away. I don't think the cars were participants, just warm bodies that wanted to get the hell away from danger. And after an eternity that wasn't, the police arrived. Then more. And as quickly as it had appeared, it was over. It was no long a crime event, now it was a crime scene. Containment, police tape, flashing red and blue lights. We strolled back to our car, hearts racing, discussions of death & safety, and went home.

There are things I like about the city, it has different rhythms, complexities, and rules. There is a vibrancy, complexity, depth that we don't get in the suburbs. But as we approached our home, closer to the banality and perceived safety, I felt relieved, glad to be back in my comfort zone.

Deep down I know that this event such as this could have happened in my town, my neighborhood. Gunfire and violence is limited to "the city." It can happen next door. It can happen at my grocery store. But this time, it didn't, we experienced it in the city. So, now that I am home, I feel safe. Back in my cocoon.