Drowning Rose

These moments come at the beginning of every month....

Working in a financial department is an ebb and flow that pulses to the commercial world's heart beat... Each compression of this heart brings the blood of my labor rushing and squeezing through the compressed arteries of data moving through deadlines....

Though I realize that losing a million dollars somewhere in the computer is a rather critical thing, I understand not why I must enter into that ritual of working into the wee hours of the night over it. I understand not why some people are worried they will lose their jobs and not be able to support their families over this and it brings out the dark and animalistic side of all involved. Why must I have a row with the person refusing to help me that would make a good Irish pub brawl proud. Maybe the problem here is that I am sober through this process?

Send out an Amber Alert... some data has gone to some wicked end... And so here I sit for the past week in a dawn to dusk search and rescue mission. I am command and control... Calling in the federal agents and the search dogs .... Plotting progress and maps of areas searched and results found. I have my whistle and I am weary.

We have cleaned up this disaster area of most of its debris. The Financial City is breathing a bit easier with all of this progress made. Soon we will be entering the dystole ebb where we go limp from the presusure of the backflush and rest of the heart. Then... we will sit out on our porches and smell in the clean air of the cool mornings of this new season. Then... we will look around and see that each 1 and 0 has nestled into its correct column and we will lift our heads to see that other cities are still rebuilding. These are live cities with hearts of flesh and needs that are personal and we will bow our heads down again to pray for them and to roll up our sleeves to join in the efforts.