I have a kindergartner. He’s a vibrant,  busy little boy, learning about the world, a smile on his face most of the day. He loves our animals, he loves his sisters and brothers, and his hero is his daddy. He can count to thirty, is reading better every day. He loves playing Mortal Kombat; Marvel vs DC Universe, and loves playing spiderman(leaping from couch to couch throwing my yarn around as his ‘web’). He is sensitive to how others feel, often giving out random hugs if he thinks you aren’t feeling good.

Tonight, after we got back from a Christmas luau, we snuggled. We cuddled. And I cried. I cried for the parents who don’t have the opportunity to snuggle their children anymore. I cried for the school, a place of education, of learning, of hope, which saw such violence. I cried for the staff, the other students who lost their classmates and siblings. I cried for the town, the state, for the country. And I cried for me, for the guilt for feeling happy that I still have my kindergartner.

There is no rhyme or reason to human madness. Yet we still seek a reason, we try to unravel the crazy to find out why. In cases like this, I don’t know if you can really answer ‘why’ someone would do this.

So I snuggle my children, I tell my family I love them. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, none of us do. But I will make sure that my family is 100% sure that I love them. Just in case.

And honestly, I really hope my readers do the same.

Be kind to one another.


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