A Week Later

There were no words today at 8:30am CST when we collectively joined with Newtown, Connecticut in a moment in silence.

Our collective selves were shattered with the news of what happened there a week ago.

How do we go on, the question we have all asked.  How.

I was sitting in my bedroom, listening to my children get ready for the last day of school, today, and chattering away about the parties they will have, the gifts they will give their teachers, the fun they will have during winter break.  And I prayed.

The other mothers will not have that.  Their babies will not go to temple or church again, will not spin the dreidel, light the menorah, put the star on the tree, go to midnight mass, or recite the Nguzo Saba.  They will not have that. Ever.

We will go on, we always do.  We sit and talk about what happened and how it can make us different, and we go on.  We hope it never happens where we live.  But where is that?  Newtown was just as safe as Kirkwood.  Until tragedy struck.

I wrote yesterday about what it means and more importantly, how we can truly have a discussion about our collective humanity and place for each other.

My children are at school today, celebrating all they learned in this past semester and anticipating all they will do on winter break.  I smiled at them.  I still have them here to do that.

We must celebrate ALL the children and honor ALL their right to exist, and never let this happen again.

Do you have the courage to make that happen?