Morning Walk

I went for a morning walk this morning, as I do most mornings. Today's walk felt great, as my legs were sore from yesterday's run in the delicious, "I exercised beyond my normal bounds" sort of ache. I love that feeling of muscle soreness. I believe I'm odd in that delight.

During the walk, I noticed an odd noise I couldn't place coming through my earphones. I took them out and listened. After a few moments, I realized, I could hear screaming. In particular, I could hear an adult male screaming words, children crying "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" and an adult woman yelling incoherently.

I started walking towards the sounds, curious if I would be able to both figure out which house and understand the words being said. As I approached the sounds, the yelling and screaming stopped. I couldn't figure out which house the sounds were coming from, despite narrowing it down to four houses, two on the street I was on, and two on the next street over.

And then the yelling started back up again.

So, there's this idea that people can figure things out for themselves, that calling in an authority figure is the wrong thing to do. Yet, how do you know that the people who are unable to defend themselves have help? I stood on the street as the sounds grew louder, debating calling the cops, thinking they could resolve their issues this is a family matter, until I couldn't stand the anger coming forth, until I realized that no one in the house was going to ask for help, that the children's cries were hard to bear, and that, well, I wanted to help.

I called 9-1-1.

Domestic disturbance.

I didn't wait for the outcome. I saw the officer approach the house as I rounded the corner a block down, but I didn't alter my path or change my pace. I kept walking on my walk.

I don't know the outcome. I don't know if I made a difference. I don't know if I helped, or if I changed that man's anger to rage. I hope I helped. I don't know.