We were camping when the bombs hit, and not even to try and escape them. It was a last minute decision.
"What should we do this weekend?"
"I dunno. Maybe we should go camping."
"In May? Won't that be a little cold?"
"A little, but we'll take our warm sleeping bags. It'll be fine."
I checked my email before we left the house, updated my facebook status.
"Going camping with my wonderful wife. See you all when we get back."
Sometimes I wish I'd known what was going to happen. Maybe I would have tried a little harder to get my buddy and his wife to go.
"Hey, Cindy and I are going camping this weekend, do you two wanna go?"
"Nah. I think we're just going to stay in this weekend. Do a movie marathon, or something."
"Okay. Well you two have fun with that. See you when we get back."
But I didn't. I didn't say goodbye to my family, or my friends. I didn't tell them how much I loved them, or how much I'd miss them if anything happened. I didn't think anything would happen. I was at work on Friday. Cindy packed us up because she had the day off. We barely took enough food for the weekend.
We went to our favorite spot: A little meadow that we'd gone to dozens of times. It had great ground for setting a tent on. Almost no rocks and softer grass than you'd ever find in the city. Almost no one knew about it too. I don't think there was ever a time when we saw someone else. Funny, that. We wanted so badly to get away from everyone, but now we'd give anything to find some civilization. What I wouldn't do for a coffee. What Cindy wouldn't do for a dress.
The spot was so far out in the woods that we didn't recognize the bombs for what they were. We thought there was a small earthquake, or maybe lightening booming over the mountain. We didn't even think much of it, just put the rain tarp on the tent and kept on with our pick-nick. Of course, I'm not sure what we would have done if we'd known what they were. We couldn't have saved them. We couldn't have saved anyone.