About Connecticut

In this day and age…in America…how…?

The newscasters go on and on, filling air and space until a new tidbit on information drips in.

Silence would be too horrible.

Times like this….

There are scones to be made, popcorn to be festively coated with cranberries, pistachios and white chocolate.  This is what I am supposed to be doing right now.  But instead I write.  I write because I know it would be a mistake to get in my car right now and rip Max out of school so I could clutch him in my arms.  I write because the overwhelming grief I am sick with needs to be hidden in an hour when Jack awakes from his nap.

After all, children are children.

They shouldn’t hear of such an unspeakable crime. 

Let alone be a victim.

Victims.

I keep erasing this next paragraph.  It’s full of anger, blame, confusion and accusation.  Each time I write it, I make another point.  But it’s never enough.  It’s never the right thing to say, because there is no right thing to say.  I am like the newscasters, afraid to let dead air rest.

But what is today if not a day full of dead air?

And so, before silence, I will leave you with a song and the only solution I know of:

love.