…is worse than being at the wrong time.

Tuesday a smart cheerful twenty-something girl got killed by a drive-by shootout on a crowded plaza in Monterrey, Mexico.

She was 21 and was speaking on cellphone with her boyfriend when a group of children about her age, descended from a truck, and fired against a prison guard off duty. Several bullets hit the sides, several hit on glass walls, but unfortunately one hit her head. She died instantly.

I can’t imagine the feelings of her boyfriend after hearing the shot. But it’s better no to imagine. It’s better to feel few. As life becomes bearable only through a focus attention.

We can’t always worry about death or worry about being always on the right place at the right time. Or even less, being on the wrong place, but at another time.

‘Cause, sometimes, you can’t choose where you are at any particular time. Work, family, friends drive you to places and sometimes those places are neither the correct ones, nor the safe ones. But one feels safe by whatever surrounds us. Other ‘safe havens’ are indeed not, as they are lacking our friends, our families, our ties….

But ties are not forever, nor family nor friends. Some people run hundreds of miles to stay off wars and famine.

My grandpa went from Turkey to Marseilles, France to New York (apparently) down to Mexico running from the Armenian genocide, even if he wasn’t Armenian.

Some walk just a couple miles to get out of poverty, which is also dangerous in itself. My dad went from a ranch near the American border to here, just 120 miles or so, driven by their desire for a better life.

Me, I’m still waiting. Waiting at what used to be the right place, which now seems the wrong one.

But only time will tell if it was only the wrong time, for me and for the rest of us.

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