I clean the house, bash a tennis ball, or work the exercise machines out in the barn until, as the band says, I’m comfortably numb.
When I heard the news of the shootings in Connecticut I cried and trembled – as if it was 20 below. Then I got mad.
A friend said it takes an act of bravery just to let your kids out of the house these days. And that is so true whether they are young, like the kindergartners who died today, or older kids like mine.
The world has changed, and I’m hating it. I’m grieving for people I don’t know, not just the young ones, but the moms and dads whose lives in one moment were killed along with their kids.
We all trust that our children will be alive when school is dismissed. It’s not a lot to ask. And if they aren’t, as happened today thanks to a mad man, well, it just defies all logic in the parent brain.
This is what I call a seat belt day. When it is wiser to stay safely at your desk, or even go back to bed where there are no sharp corners, rather than risk injury in the face of heartbreak.
I tried a walk on the treadmill but after a hard, fast couple of miles I was so caught up in my feelings – and the music blasting in my ears – that I lost my footing and almost flew off the back of the thing like in the old cartoon. Cue more tears.
The truth is, I could have walked to Duluth if I hadn’t tripped and it wouldn’t have made anything better.
Because nothing today can make any of us feel better. Except the solid presence of our kids in our arms, their sweet one-of-a-kind scents in our noses, and the shared commitment in all of our hearts that things like what happened in that school today just can’t happen again. Ever. Anywhere.