One man's happiness

My mother told me of one of her worst experiences during war time. Living in the city we were always safe from attacks, which does not mean we were not affected by the war. She told me the hardest for her was to hear the syrens in the wee hours of the morning, when the columns made it through and entered the town... with the survivors, but also with the wounded and the dead. It was a party, people greated with joy those who made it alive. Life had to go on, and the dead could only be remembered silently, because survival was highly regarded.

Where has the price of life gone now? No war, and yet, who weeps for the dead and cheers for the living?

One man's happiness...