Just like everyone else, I am heartbroken over what happened in Newtown last Friday. When I heard there was another school shooting my mind, as it always does, went to my own children sitting in their classrooms just down the street. Then I heard the horrific details and saw the list of names and birthdates of those victims and this time, not only did I cry but I could feel the tension growing in my shoulders. Most of the children on the list were born in 2006, the same year as our son and when I saw the name Benjamin on the list with 2006 written next to it I realized why this incident was hitting me harder than any new story ever had. I know exactly what it is these parents have lost. I know exactly what won’t be coming home to them.
Six is such a magical age, one of my favorites. Children
have grown up just enough to be able to communicate their ideas and emotions to
you but not enough to have outgrown such beautiful and magical thoughts. They
light up the room with their energy and ideas. Six is getting taller and bigger
but it still has baby hands. Six can be so unbelievably loving and cuddly. Six
is wild and curious.
I can’t help but look at my six year old and be hit by the magnitude of loss of these 20 families. At six my son lives with his heart on his sleeve, he’s so very innocent and trusting and loving and lovely and I know what they’ve lost and I feel such gratitude that I get to bring my six year old home this afternoon.