We're not discussing the horrors in Boston with Anna June. We're not watching tv coverage of the bombing while she's awake. When AJ visited my parents after school yesterday, they didn't, either.
For a few hours, we did not know if our sweet high school History teacher, Mrs. Franklin, was ok. We knew from social media she was running the Boston marathon. Someone mentioned they had info that she'd been on pace to finish around 3pm, about 10 minutes after the bomb went off. That was too close for me, and my stomach was in knots until finally, al.com reported her as safe.
We can't shield AJ from everything. She is so inquisitive right now - we're asked what things mean and how things work dozens of times a day. What she learns about the world is, in part, shaped by us, and we take that responsibility seriously.
At home, I fixed some quesadillas (thanks for the salsa, Mom!) AJ ran in to give me a picture she drew with the caption "I love you Mom." I lit a candle as I set the table. I poured a glass of wine, using the "good" crystal. AJ asked if there was a special occasion. I told her that every day we can come home and eat dinner together is a special occasion.
At work, someone asked rhetorically, "What kind of world are we leaving to our kids?" My answer is, "The one we make."
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