Tyler has had to stop reading about Newtown. I can’t stop reading about it. I want to know why it happened. I keep hoping for that bit of understanding and I’m not able to find it. I won’t ever find it.
I had the pleasure of spending the weekend with kids. My own and others. Mostly six and seven year olds. We went to two holiday parties where kids were running wild. It was a moment of relief from the feeling of helplessness I have about Newtown. Surely there’s something I can do. I can’t figure out what it is.
I was in Texas last week. Texas is, for our 7yo, a mystical place. Texas pops up in his stories, in his dreams. When I told him I was going there, he asked me if I would bring him back some sand. I told him that I wasn’t going to that part of Texas. I sent him postcards from Austin and did Facetime with him so he could see the tower at the University of Texas.
There are no direct flights from AUS to PDX. So I was stuck at LAX on my way home when the news about Newton started breaking. I was stuck in an airport. After leaving my family for work. And there were kids getting shot. First graders, just like my boy.