I was on a morning stroll on Facebook last Wednesday and the
news caught my eyes. Attack on Charlie Hebdo. 12 people dead. I said out loud
«Quoi ???» What ?
Among the casualties, I read those names that were so
familiar, Cabu, Wolinsky – all dead. “It is not possible. I can’t believe it.”
Cabu was familiar since my childhood, he was on a kid’s show
then later on the Canard Enchainé, which I read every week when I became an
adult. Drawings of Wolinsky were everywhere, the Canard, Paris-Match
(equivalent of People)… This was devastating. American news focused most on
Charb, the Editor of the newspaper but Cabu and Wolinsky were the most famous ones - for all those who were not readers of Charlie Hebdo.
I went through the following days. I was working, talking,
smiling but I was also in another dimension, curled up in a corner, in tears
and pulling my hair off, repeating “I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it…” over
and over and over…
I followed the news. I did not want to hear about anything
else because I could not think about anything else.
The French channel, TV5 on Comcast, had good news but only
once in a while. I turned to CNN and was not disappointed. They went all
Breaking News and focused on what was going on in France.
That same night, I was on my way to church for a meeting. I
stopped in a Starbuck – the only place for a decent hot chocolate. Two
teenagers were waiting for their latte and one of them had a 6 weeks old puppy
in her arms. “He was born in the garage of our neighbor, she explained,
noticing my interest. A stray dog came in, had the litter there. They did not
know her. We are going to keep this little guy.”
I said something nice about the pup, which made the girls
curious. Apparently my accent can be heard even after a few words. They asked.
“French???" said one, who seemed almost incredulous. The face of the other one
saddened. “That’s terrible what happened over there. I am so sorry!” I was
surprised she knew. Teenagers are often not that connected with news,
particularly when something happens abroad.
“Do you want to hold him?” she said. I took her pup in my
arms. He was warm and sleepy. He moved to be more comfortable and I felt his
muzzle on my neck.
A few minutes later, I walked back to my car. Something hard and tense in my
chest had softened a bit.
“What is left to the human when uncertainty alone seems to
be a sure thing?” wrote Marie Cenec[1].
What is left is a moment with a warm sleeping puppy in your
arms.
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