Can you hear me now?

At first I thought it was me. You know. You say good morning or ask someone how they are and they wave and say "I'm great," or whatever it is they say. Even if you say some nonsensical thing like "Giraffees ate all my garden flowers last night," people will still smile and wave and say, "I"m great! Good morning!"

So when people asked me what "big stories" I'm working on this week and I told them about the blog and the execution, it's like I said, "I'm great! Good morning!" because PRACTICALLY NO ONE wanted to talk about it. I got blank looks - like I'd responded in a foreign language. Two old friends are giving me the cold shoulder - as though by choosing to cover this execution I've somehow betrayed them because they're opposed to the death penalty.

A cop friend did respond jokingly - telling me this would either be the greatest story I ever covered, or that I'd end up someplace where people got real friendly around medication time. By choosing to allow this story to touch me, to touch my mind, my heart, my compassion - I'm violating all the rules for surviving relatively unscathed. But as a human being do I want to emerge untouched? Or am I open to changing the way I look at life forever? You can't go back. You can't undo the images. You can't undo the feelings.

Yet, how many times in our lifetime do we get to make a decision that alters our perception of life forever? What do you do when you hear that knock? I'm answering it. I won't know until I'm on the other side of the experience if I regretted opening the door or not. But my hand is definitely on the doorknob now.