freebies

Today my heart is breaking.  My thoughts are with the Newtown, Connecticut, community in the aftermath of today’s horrors.  I cried when I heard the news today…. as I’m sure many of you did.  I have worked at Ariel’s school for the last two days, helping with holiday crafts.  We completed them earlier today than  I had thought we would and I was able to start unexpectedly on another project.  I was deep in thought–and more than a bit worried about the new project–when the news came through.

And all I could think about was my sweet, precious girl.

All I wanted to do was to bolt to her classroom and hug her tightly.  Squeeeeeeze her so tightly.  Never let her go.  Ever.

But I didn’t. I didn’t want to alarm her or her friends.

So instead I sat with my PTA co-volunteers and gasped.  And wept.  And worried.

I counted the minutes to the end of school, when Ariel would happily trippy-trot into the PTA room and unawares, find me still reeling from the news and begging for a hug.  And she would oblige, although blissfully ignorant of my deepest unspoken fears.

I realize that living in fear is pointless.  I cannot lock her up in a tower — a la Rapunzel — and hope no one finds her there.  I want her to experience the world with all its ups and downs.  Especially its ups and downs.

While I want to protect her from heartbreak and sorrow, I know that those experiences add depth and breadth to her existence in a way that books and songs and poems cannot.  By themselves, without the associated memories and emotions, notes and words are flat.  Poetry and music gain meaning to us when we can empathize with the words and moods.

I want Ariel to be a “real” person.  I want her to have depth and breadth.  I want her to have compassion.  I want her to have life experiences.

And I want her to be safe from all harm.

How to accomplish that in these often crazy times?

I don’t know.  I don’t have all of the answers all of the time, contrary to what I tell Ariel. 

All I know is that I’ll be begging for a lot more hugs in the future, treasuring every one.

And wishing I could somehow give those faraway parents and friends and loved ones just one more hug from their child, their brother or sister, their teacher, their mother, their friend.

Do me a favor tonight to honor the memory of those 26 slain today.  Hug your child an extra long time tonight–with an extra long squeeze.  They might not get it, and that’s okay.  But you will.  Treasure the smell of her hair and the slightly funky smell emanating from her sneakers.  Revel in how much she’s really grown over the last 10-12-14 years.

And take every day one step at a time.  Enjoy the small insignificant moments with your tween.

And hug them.  Don’t ever forget to hug them!!

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