It has been hard to breathe in the past two days without feeling a lump stuck in my chest. I have wept for the children, staff and community of Newtown, CT. So close to my home and my heart. As a teacher and a parent, I feel lost, confused and helpless. The details kept becoming more and more unimaginable as the hours went on. By the end of my work day Friday, I was crying in my classroom with my students telling them how much they are loved.
As stories now are being told of the extreme heroism of the staff and the students, I am inspired by them. A principal, teachers telling their students that they love them, and faculty shielding the children from horror. The first responders who encountered the sights and the staff at Danbury hospital who readied the trauma area for the patients who never came. This loss of life cannot have been in vain. Their amazing lives, and stories must stay alive for us to remember. We must always remember.
Tonight at bedtime in my house, I held my sons tight. I smelled them. That might sound odd, but have you ever just smelled your child. Placed your cheek to their cheek and inhaled their beautiful sweetness. I am not sure I have for a long time, but tonight I broke all the rules of bedtime. I rocked my youngest until he fell asleep in my arms. I had him locked in tight and our faces were pressed together. I felt his soft hair and his warm breath and I prayed that my children would always be safe from harm. I prayed that those teachers and children who are now angels, will watch over my children too.
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