Turning 11

Saturday night Claire went to a birthday party.

A new friend turned 11.

They played games, jumped on the trampoline, ran around outside, rode bikes. There was a slip and slide. And a cake.

At some point in the evening an ambulance went by.

“We should go inside, it could be a shooting.” someone said.

They are 10. Turning 11. And this was one of their knee-jerk reactions to seeing, hearing, feeling the sirens of an ambulance.

Tonight we were leaving for gymnastics and heard a lot of sirens. A helicopter. She hadn’t told me this story yet.…still sitting in the driveway I told her we need to stop pray for whatever was happening that everyone was ok, in case the sirens were going to an accident.

“I hope there wasn’t a shooting” she said.

My heart is still pretty twisted up about it.

She’s 10 years old. Turning 11.

Our school system sent out an email - reminding people that even though you can carry a gun you still can’t carry a gun on school property to football games or other events. It also said kids can’t bring footballs to play with inside which made me eye roll chuckle because what an absolute fucked up polar opposite set of things to have to address.

I don’t want my kids or your kids or their kids or grandkids and their grandkids’ grandkids’ grandkids’ to live in a world where it’s even a possibility that sirens means there could’ve been a shooting.

People have been shootings people for a long time. But it can’t be their default setting. It can’t be something on their minds and impacting their hearts. They’re only 10. Turning 11.

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