Still Fighting Against The Grey
...but I take some consolation in the fact that it appears a lot of people are. The Sun had a thunderbrow this morning as he couldn't find the key for his Heelies. He wanted to wear them to school today, but the wheels aren't allowed. So there was much throwing of things and door slamming and tears as I rushed around trying to get out of the house.
Thing you never can say to your child, particularly when the father has "mad issues, yo" is: "Stop it! You're acting like your father!!!" OMG. I cringe everytime he gets like that. I see the fire in his eye and the set of his jaw, and the cleft in his chin deepens and I pray that I am able to guide him so that he knows... you CAN'T have a temper tantrum when things don't go your way.
We made the 7:49 bus... not the one I wanted but at least it wasn't the 8:04. By the time we had gotten our seat on the train his clouds had parted a little and he played Soduku on the way in. He was so busy flinging Heelies around he'd forgotten his DS Gameboy (thank goodness).
The train was full of very tired, droopy people, and my own coffee wasn't really doing the trick and I snoozed a little, too. After I dropped the Sun off at school I walked briskly up the hill on Madison Avenue, trying to shake the grey. Even the sun is struggling. Isolated pockets of brightness trying to break through dark clouds.
All the newspapers bear the face of Cho, the VT gunman. Boy, talk about succumbing to the darkness. Last night I prowled the Internet a little; saw a YouTube clip of Nikki Giovanni reciting a poem she wrote as a VT Alumni. It was very uplifting (Boy, she lookalikamahn). I found it on my friend's blog; she's a VT alumni and very distraught about this. Please send her Positive Vibes. Then I found that NBC had an interactive chart showing the timeline of the massacre, and the faces of the deceased. All walks of life, though mostly children. 19, 20, 22. An outdoorsman. A chemical engineering major. Smiling faces full of life and hope. And of course, Cho's face. Full of hate and anger and despair.
The other day, Tuesday, the Sun and I talked about it a little but there wasn't much I could say. What do you say? We did decide that when he's old enough for college, if his father still lives in California and the Sun wants to go away to college, he can find a school out there and live with his dad (assuming several things, but it's a thought). Or he can stay here in NY and live at home. Either way, neither one of us was comfortable with the thought of him being miles away from home, at 18 or 19 years of age, in a sea of up to 26,000 young faces. Suppose there's another Cho? No, you can't protect your kids from the world. Not for long... if ever. But you can try.
As a parent, my heart breaks for all the parents who had kids at VT. Even the ones whose kids were simply there. I am so sorry. I can't imagine sending your baby, your heart, your life's blood off to start a new life and never seeing them again. If your child goes off to fight in Iraq, you at least know there's a possibility they won't come home, but who would think that the possibility exists when they are simply going off to college?
The world is crazy.
Thing you never can say to your child, particularly when the father has "mad issues, yo" is: "Stop it! You're acting like your father!!!" OMG. I cringe everytime he gets like that. I see the fire in his eye and the set of his jaw, and the cleft in his chin deepens and I pray that I am able to guide him so that he knows... you CAN'T have a temper tantrum when things don't go your way.
We made the 7:49 bus... not the one I wanted but at least it wasn't the 8:04. By the time we had gotten our seat on the train his clouds had parted a little and he played Soduku on the way in. He was so busy flinging Heelies around he'd forgotten his DS Gameboy (thank goodness).
The train was full of very tired, droopy people, and my own coffee wasn't really doing the trick and I snoozed a little, too. After I dropped the Sun off at school I walked briskly up the hill on Madison Avenue, trying to shake the grey. Even the sun is struggling. Isolated pockets of brightness trying to break through dark clouds.
All the newspapers bear the face of Cho, the VT gunman. Boy, talk about succumbing to the darkness. Last night I prowled the Internet a little; saw a YouTube clip of Nikki Giovanni reciting a poem she wrote as a VT Alumni. It was very uplifting (Boy, she lookalikamahn). I found it on my friend's blog; she's a VT alumni and very distraught about this. Please send her Positive Vibes. Then I found that NBC had an interactive chart showing the timeline of the massacre, and the faces of the deceased. All walks of life, though mostly children. 19, 20, 22. An outdoorsman. A chemical engineering major. Smiling faces full of life and hope. And of course, Cho's face. Full of hate and anger and despair.
The other day, Tuesday, the Sun and I talked about it a little but there wasn't much I could say. What do you say? We did decide that when he's old enough for college, if his father still lives in California and the Sun wants to go away to college, he can find a school out there and live with his dad (assuming several things, but it's a thought). Or he can stay here in NY and live at home. Either way, neither one of us was comfortable with the thought of him being miles away from home, at 18 or 19 years of age, in a sea of up to 26,000 young faces. Suppose there's another Cho? No, you can't protect your kids from the world. Not for long... if ever. But you can try.
As a parent, my heart breaks for all the parents who had kids at VT. Even the ones whose kids were simply there. I am so sorry. I can't imagine sending your baby, your heart, your life's blood off to start a new life and never seeing them again. If your child goes off to fight in Iraq, you at least know there's a possibility they won't come home, but who would think that the possibility exists when they are simply going off to college?
The world is crazy.
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