A year is just 365 days

365 days of remembering, contemplating, envisioning and guessing. Ample time to groom fear or conquer it. The latter is easier for those who aren’t directly connected but for people like me who wake up everyday to look at our little children and remember the Sandy Hook Massacre, fear always finds its way in.

I stumbled on The Last Goodbye. this morning as I was flipping through FreshlyPressed. The Parker Five still remembers. Every single thing about that day. How can she forget? Even I can’t forget how that day went for me. Grandma and I had walked down the lane and across the street. I had been checking out creches for BabyC and this was supposed to be the best of the ones in the area.

I had printed out some article I had found online “20 things to ask when searching for creches for your kid or something close enough.

20 endless infuriating questions. I wasn’t sure I would even get around to asking 5 with a straight face. But again that’s why I don’t work with little children. They are delicate creatures and require tons and tons of patience.

I ended up on the waiting list.

#24 or something as far down the list as that.

Do you think they could push me up the list if I donate stuff. I asked my mum. Stuff like what she questioned. Like I was thinking of donating kiddy hemp.

I dunno, maybe Heaters?

Anyway we got home, turned the TV on and joined the rest of America to marvel at another sign of the lower-than-low spiral of American mental health. So many different reports for the first few hours about who did it and what exactly happened. CNN hardly ever gets it right the first time. There’s always a lot of making it up as they go along. But they have the time, don’t they? They are a 24hour news station. One thing was clear though, children had been murdered. Innocents had been destroyed by someone who would still be considered a child in some cultures today.

I had just come back a creche that was supposed to be really good and I had let myself in easypeasy. Nobody had to buzz me in. Or scan me. It was a revolving door and I still had a fear for revolving doors and escalators then. We had just walked up to reception and then we had seen some of the kids, asked about two questions and wondered why the guy we were talking to had a boulder on his shoulder. Could kids do that to a man?

It would have been so easy to hurt someone if that was why we were there. So easy. How can I protect my baby in a place where people just do an about turn and kill children, walk into a crowded theatre and massacre, drown 5 kids, e.t.c. America seems to be at war with itself and I feel like people like Kim Jong, Second of his name are just sitting around waiting for the country to self destruct.

I sympathized with the parents of Sandy Hook and the families of the teachers who were lost. My parents took to clutching him tighter and announced that he was too young to be away from home and among strangers. They would take care of him at home. I wouldn’t have to worry they said. I had death on my mind for the next few days. I couldn’t get it to go away.I didn’t think I would survive it if something like that happened to me. People will tell you not to think about it but how can you not?

Do people in Syria see death on every street corner, have it brush against their sleeves in the dead of night?

BabyC will begin his learning adventures soon enough. I still think about Sandy Hook, Lanza and how CNN hounded them for weeks until the residents of the city started pleading that they leave. One year hasn’t dimmed these thoughts one bit. Yet even scared mothers must let their children go into the world, crazy as it is.



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