I’m analytical by nature. By processing, cataloging, and arranging, I am able to filter my experiences into neat little files and formulate my reactions. It’s a clean, efficient system that I embrace willingly. I simply think that way. It’s me to see all sides of a story. It’s me to look at everything I come across from all angles. I’m the 3rd of 5 children, smack dab in the middle. I’m a virgo. I divide and conquer everything I come across. Emotions follow accordingly.
I simply cannot conquer what’s happening in the world at this moment. I simply cannot process what happened in an elementary school in Connecticut. Trying with all my might to process the horror, the unspeakable terror, the unnecessary fright that was felt by a small child in a small classroom, I break down. I can’t reach the point of emotion. My heart is broken and my mind can’t process it. I do not believe it happened. It didn’t, right? Please tell me it didn’t.
Friday, I was with my girl all day long. I was with her all day long at her own elementary school. I sat with her during lunch when she was whining about the mayonnaise on her sandwich. I watched from across a dusty field, clouds of fine powdered dirt whipping up and swirling in the air, as my girl sat with her classmates listening to their teacher read out loud. They fidgeted and rocked and laughed and teased and listened. I encountered babies, because that’s what they are–babies, of many ages while volunteering at the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Filing in and out, these little beings amazed me with their courteous, loving hearts. Their joy filled the echoing room and it boomed against the walls. Choosing items carefully from the line-up, every single child chose something for someone else. Every last one of them had space in their little hearts for someone else.
When does that go away?
Who holds onto it, and why?
I’m grasping desperately for any explanation. Anything at all that can be fixed. Let’s fix it please, people. Let’s fix it. What can I do? Tell me what to do.
I can’t have her smile ripped away. I refuse to let him feel that terror vibrate in his little bones. This will not happen to my babies. Tell me what to do to make sure that never happens.