There are no words.
I have nothing profound or eloquent to say.
A child was among the victims.
What kind of world are we living in?
I don't want my children to know this fear that is choking me.
I used to ache for the mothers in those other places who were afraid their children would be shot when they walked outside...
Those mothers who worried about roadside bombs...
But that was their concern, those countries were over there. Far away.
I once only ached for them. Now I am one of them.
Bug was up sick last night. Two long hours. I held her the entire time.
I let Pumpkin fall asleep in my bed. I missed her as soon as her eyes closed.
I finally laid my own tear-stained cheeks on my pillow and frantically whispered fervent prayers into the cold dark night.
Waking, I hoped it was all a bad dream.
It wasn't.
But neither was the beauty in those little girls' eyes as they peered over their warm comforters this morning;
Neither was the slow smile that crept across their faces as they found their mama waiting to hug them awake.
We cannot always wake from our nightmares, but we also cannot live in those dreams.
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