this isn't the day to talk about this
(part four)


one of the phone calls i made to sarah today found her crying on the other end.

"you're crying?", i asked.

i knew why she was crying. it's because a classroom full of children kissed their mommies and daddies earlier this morning, smiled on their way out the door, and then had their lives taken from them by a crazy person.

the idea of those scared children, being shot and killed in what should have been the safe haven of their classroom will be a haunting nightmare to me, sarah, and every parent with a beating heart tonight. and then likely the next night. and the next. and the next. and the next. and for as long as it takes to shake the idea that this could've been our children. who knows how long that will take. longer than your typical news cycle.

here's why this conversation, this gun conversation, this something needs to happen now with a quickness needs to happen today.

because there is nothing in place that would prevent this from happening tomorrow. in another town. to another group of innocent children or adults.

nothing.

wrapping my head around that idea makes me want to shit myself.

what if we wait 'til tomorrow when we could've done something different. something better for the greater good. but we dragged our feet due to some arbitrarily set time of mourning. what then?

more death is okay?

that's pretty a fucked idea.