No More

I peek into the preschool classroom to see Laurel sitting in the tiniest of chairs eating lunch with her friends.  She laughs so hard the yogurt that was balanced on her spoon tips onto her special Valentine dress.  Her face momentarily falls, but she quickly wipes it off and goes back to laughing.  Rhodes is already on his nap mat. I can see his beloved dinosaur printed rubber boots barely peeking out from his blanket.  

Love.

I walk into the happiest of first grade classrooms. It is full of laughter and smells faintly of sugar from the treats waiting on the table. I find Oliver perched on the edge of his chair. His sweaty hand clutching conversation hearts and marshmallows just waiting to yell "bingo". He manages to give me a half hearted wave as he covers one of the pictures on his card. His smile is contagious and I find myself grinning as I back out of the room.

Love.

The ice cream is a soupy mess.  It squishes up over the top of the carton as I attempt to scoop it into the bowl of the waiting fourth grader. We explode into laughter and I apologize for the giant mess I've made of his sundae. Grant is waiting behind him and true to his snarky nature comments that his mom is a "mess like that ice cream". All three of us giggle and I threaten to withhold the messy ice cream. 

Love.

I watch Will slowly walk to the house after getting off the bus.  His backpack is slung over one shoulder and his gate is more teen than kid.  I remember when he was in kindergarten and every day he'd shout "See ya' next year!" to his bus driver.  When he reaches me I tousle his hair and comment that this is the first year he didn't have a Valentine party. He hugs me and asks if I was sad about this.  I admit that I was. 

Love.

I'm on the phone with my Valentine when he suddenly stops talking midsentence. 

"What?" I ask. 

"There's been another school shooting.  Two are confirmed dead."

"No! no.  Children are dead?"

"I don't know.  That's all the alert said. I'm going to go."

My heart is racing.  My stomach has clenched.  I feel sick.

Evil.

I'm doing homework with Will when my phone rings.  My mom has been watching the news coverage and a young man that looks like Will was shown.  She is crying and confused.  She needs confirmation that he is safe.  I'm on the phone for over an hour.

Evil.

Oliver asks me why I don't have the morning news on.  I tell him I just want quiet this morning.  In reality I don't want to have another conversation about why people want to hurt others. I don't want to promise them that their schools are completely safe. I don't want to have another conversation about what to do if they hear shots at their schools.  I don't want to remind Grant that he is to find Oliver and then he is to use his phone to text me that he is safe. I don't want to remind Will that he is to take care of himself and to text me when he is safe. I don't want to remind them to turn off their ringers.  I just don't.

Evil.

Two of my biggest blessings are getting out of the car at school.  I want to pull them back into the car and speed away. I want to keep them with me. I can't guarantee that they are safe, yet I'm leaving them. I'm fighting back tears as I'm driving away. 

Evil.

I remember that I have these feelings after every shooting and that they will fade.  I realize that is 100% completely fucked up. 

Evil.

I'm obsessing about 17 mothers today.  Mamas that lost their babies.  Mamas that anxiously waited to hear the news. Praying that it was someone else's heart that was gone.  Mamas that will never ever be whole again.  

Evil.

When does this stop? When will we take mental health seriously? When will we stop letting Evil steal our babies?