After mass shooting, thoughts and prayers are not enough
After my daughters were asleep and our house settled into the stillness of night, I cried.
The tears, held back as we talked about Valentine’s Day parties and sorted through candy and cards, as we wrangled over a research paper on Stevie Wonder due the next day, as we danced in the kitchen and kissed each other good night, flowed down my cheeks.
I thought of the 17 high school students and teachers who did not come home from school that day. Of the 17 families whose ordinary day had turned into unfathomable grief. Of futures wiped away and lives forever destroyed by gunfire.
Again, I thought.
Again.
Again.
How many more times will we be saying “again”?