Today was Ron’s Christmas concert at his preschool, and it was precious, adorable, and wonderful, as these things always are.
He has blossomed from the terrified little boy he was a year ago – the little boy who often had to be pried out of my arms by the always-patient teachers at drop-off time. He’s a leader now, and he loves school, and he’s grown so much it makes my heart ache.
We came home and my niece came for a visit, and the house was full of laughter and shrieking and lists of wishes for Santa.
Then I went online and learned the terrible news coming from Newtown, Connecticut.
Kindergarten to grade four. Or the age of my two older sons, and Arthur, and all the little boys and girls who wore silly hats and sang holiday songs this week to rooms of parents, some of whom – me included – were distracted because we needed to get to work, or we have the niggling feeling we forgot someone on the Christmas list, or because the person sitting next to us was wearing too much perfume and taking up too much space on their chair.
So I’ve spent the afternoon in tears for the children of Newtown, and their families. Sad tears, frustrated tears. Because once again our neighbours to the south will argue and posture and go a’politiking about gun control, and in the end it will still be easier in the United States of America for a mentally ill person to get a gun than it is for a rape victim to get an abortion.
Hug your children. Keep perspective. Be happy. Be safe.