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Pasta for supper. He’d only gotten home half an hour before and we’d taken just a few bites of fresh tomatoey goodness when the inevitable happened:

the tones went off.

“I told them this would happen!” he said as he flew out the door. “I told them I’d barely get a few bites of supper before a call came through here in town.”

I finished garlic bread and pasta, moving on to a cupcake as I listened to the scanner. Dark smoke turning out to be a cooking fire. Well, he’d be home soon then.

And then the next call came through, minutes later. Motorcycle versus moose and not too far from where we live.

Not good.

The beautiful temperatures have brought out both the wildlife and the travelers and sometimes, it’s not a good combination at all. And when a motorcycle hits a moose, the motorcyclist ends up worse off than the moose.

It’s a weird thing, listening to the scanner, sometimes, because I can hear bits and pieces of what’s happening. Words like, “CPR” and “Call another ambulance” and “life flight” spilled through, and I couldn’t bear to turn off the scanner, even if it would’ve been a little less stressful. So I put away laundry and listened to both the scanner and sirens flying by, waiting, hoping, praying, unable to do much else.

At least I can pray, right? Maybe, sometimes…it’s good to listen to the scanner, because at least one person listening in prayed that night.

(Stupid moose! People, please be careful while on the road here in New England now that it’s spring and all the critters are out enjoying the gorgeous weather along with you, okay?)

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