Detonate is a pretty sensitive word these days. I associate it with being on the edge. Like, shit’s about to blow. I also think about how sad and scary the world has become. When I was in my early 20’s I backpacked through Europe, as all 20 somethings should do. But when I fast forward 15 years, is my nephew going to be able to do that without constantly being on alert? Being young and brave, I’m sure he will go no problem. It will just be Aunty and his Mommy left home to worry. Carrying back over to happy thoughts, my trip through Europe was spectacular. I remember feeling so at home there. Like, it was where I belonged, over on the Continent and certainly not in America when even then the shallow capitalism really got to me. While I was in Italy, I went to my Papa’s village and saw the house that he was born in. As I stood there in wonder, I thought, Wow my entire being, my life experience is based on the fact that one day my Papa walked out of this house, got on a boat and came to America. What if he hadn’t? What if he stayed? Everything, everything would be different and I wouldn’t be here standing on this doorway. My soul would have flown in a different direction to live a different life. But he did and I am. Sitting in America 111 years later, living an American life, saving up money to send the kid to Europe.