Teresa M. Pelham
9:35 AM EST, December 17, 2012
Life goes on, and it’s just not fair.
It’s not fair that as we tucked our children into bed last night, twenty families could not do the same. Twenty little beds are empty, and it’s just not fair.
How could the sun possibly rise, as if nothing had happened? How could trains run on time and stores open for business and people make dinner as if life is just going on?
It’s not fair that teachers who should be making holiday crafts this week are instead trying to convince their students that they are safe. They’re on alert for kids who might be scared, who might need extra hugs, who might just want to go home. They’re on alert for bad guys.
It’s not fair that this morning, on my little dude’s birthday, we talked about safety precautions in his school while he opened presents.
It’s not fair that twenty chubby-faced kids will never celebrate another birthday.
We’re all suddenly aware of how good we have it. But we also feel almost guilty for our good fortune. Why them and not us?
It’s impossible to convince our children that they will be safe when we don’t believe it ourselves. We’re helpless, and it’s not fair.