The National Monument

The nurse came for me early today and insisted that we go out. It was freezing cold, and there had been a fair amount of snow overnight. I had an extra blanket over me in the wheelchair but the cold wind found it's way in through every gap. We walked through the empty streets and in the cold light of day it seemed impossible that I had lived through such a nightmare. True enough, there had been no miracles, but everything had turned out alright in the end. Certainly we weren't back to what passed as normality, but at least some order had returned and people had started to feel safe outside their own protected enclaves. We saw a few people on our walk, warily raising a hand in greeting as we passed. The home is on the outskirts of the city and so at least some of the surrounding buildings are still partially intact. Strange to think that the streets used to be full of cars and noise, now there are only the occasional crashes of falling masonry and shouts as people work to make their buildings safe. The only other sounds we could hear were the crunching of snow under the wheels of the chair and my nurses heavy breathing as she strained to push me up the hill. Her fault, she wanted to come out, not me. We got to the top of the hill and gazed at the view across the city. I could not remember the last time I had been here and shuddered to think of everything that had passed since then. Footprints in the snow told of other people walking here, but they had all gone now and the place was eerily quiet. The view was like a shot in the arm and I felt renewed, enlivened, enriched. The structure before us at the top of the hill was called the National Monument, and it seemed fitting that it had never been finished. It is like so much of the rest of the city now, open to the elements and weather beaten, but still there, resilient and strong. Nurse helped me up from the chair and took the blanket. I stood on my own for the first time since the collapse. I raised the camera for the blip photo of the day, a photo of renewal and dare I say it, joy...