What’s our plan? Do we have a plan B, rescue plan, emergency plan?
This week my friends here, of all nationalities, are asking their families, themselves, each other, these questions.
The answers involve houses in other places, flights to far away, ships waiting in the port. There is talk of keeping cash and cans of food at home and packing suitcases, just in case.
At home we have also had similar conversations, passing our thoughts back and forth across the table on the terrace, when it is dark outside and the baby is sleeping inside.
For now, the plan, the prayer, we make is to be in the right place at the right time; the place where we can make best use of our lives; where we can hang up our string of little lights, bright against the night.