The shooting in Arizona yesterday, particularly the murder of Christina Taylor Green, has really hit home with me. It is so ironic, so painfully ironic, that this took place right after my blog about how it felt to bring a newborn child into the post-9/11 US. Christina was born on 9/11, and was featured as a face of hope for our nation. I thought I was writing about the past.
I held my kids a little closer today, remembering violence isn't past tense. It can always be just around the corner. When can we heal, already? We grow a scab, then it gets ripped off again. The same old wound, a little bigger and little more resistant to healing every time.
Or maybe it's me. Maybe the world was never any different, and what I feel is only a losing battle with my own naivete. If so, I'd like my blinders back, please. This hurts.
May we honor Christina by doing everything in our power to make the world more peaceful than her too-brief 9 years in it. And now, if you'll pardon the lack of poetry, I'd really like to puke and cry a little. Dammit, we really needed our faces of hope. I hope we find our best humanity, and soon.
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