On School Shootings

It’s Wednesday. It’s cold and rainy. Yesterday, this happened.

Today, I will place an order for pick up at Target. I will do laundry. I will send my children to school. I will worry about whether they are being picked on or are picking on others. I will worry whether their homework is done and if they’ve done their best work. I will worry about them using their manners. (I will run a collared shirt to Abram when we’ve forgotten today is a Mass day.) Most days, I wouldn’t worry about a shooter, but today I will.

I will call my representatives. I will feel heartbroken and helpless. I will pay the bills and balance the checkbook. I will unload yesterday’s dishes and load this morning’s. I will make each kiddo a list of tasks to finish today when they come home from school. I will hope they come home from school. I will scroll through Instagram. Feel frustrated that today’s outcry will be tomorrow’s outfit post. I will feel hypocritical as I type this.

I will text a friend about a show we are both watching. I will make beds and pick up shoes. I will pick my kids up from school. Today, I will think about all the parents who thought they would be picking up their kids from school. Tomorrow, I might think about them too. By Friday pick up, I will be thinking about our weekend plans.

Our ability to adapt is a blessing and a curse. We should not be able to adapt to this.

I will put one foot in front of the other. I will forget. I will hope to never feel this way again. I will not be surprised to feel this way again.