Sirens

I suppose being situated between a campus of heavy parties and the closest major hospitals that I should be used to the sounds that break through the clear, saran-wrap like stillness in my mind, but I'm not.

I still haven't been able to distinguish the yelps and screams of the sirens around this place. Was it the loud and long wails that signal an ambulance rushing down Rollins Ave to save a life or was that a police car, armed and ready with a glove box full of blank traffic citations?

Sires, for me, signify fear. Fear of violence. Fear of death. Fear of the unknown in general. Ever since I was a child I grew up around CB radios and/or nosy grandmothers. For Nana, the CB radio was a way to insure the sirens she often heard were not for someone in her family. For Grandma Mary Jo, working in medical records was her way to catch up on the towns latest gossip after the sirens ended.