I spend my days at work surrounded by the 24-hour news cycle. It’s nice on a day when there’s something interesting going on in the world. On Friday? It was the very definition of painful. The news kept getting worse and worse. You’d think that the details couldn’t be any more horrible, and then they’d get even more awful. I watched in horror as what appeared to be a “minor” incident (can a school shooting ever be minor?) morphed into one of the worst mass shootings of all time. I sat at my desk, wishing with every ounce of my being that I could just leave and run to my car, drive a million miles an hour home, and hug my baby.
I have never been more glad to have switched from working 9-6 to working 7-4.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the parents who were rushing to Sandy Hook Elementary. Parents who were wishing with every ounce of their beings, that it wasn’t their baby. And how, if it wasn’t their baby, it was going to be somebody else’s baby. A friend’s baby. A neighbor’s baby. For twenty sets of parents, it was their baby. And I couldn’t comprehend the depth of their loss, but I had a teeny, tiny inkling.
And it effing hurt.
I don’t know what it’s like to lose a child. I hope that I never find out. But, I do know what it’s like to love a child. And that’s some powerful stuff, right there.
So, I went home and I hugged my baby, and I kissed my baby, and I told her how much I loved her. Her grasp of the English language is tenuous at best, but she’s a fan of snuggles, so I think she got something out of it. My weekends with her are oh so very precious. This weekend was extra precious.
Sometimes, the world just plain sucks. Sometimes, there’s nothing you can do about it. Sometimes, all you can do is hug your baby and tell her how much you love her.
In the darkness of this winter, I think we could all use a little more light.
