My Two Writing Teachers colleagues and I are hosting the 14th Annual March Slice of Life Story Challenge, in which teachers from around the world participate in posting a story per day.
I’m finding it hard to write a slice today. I’ve drafted a few different starts—a funny thing my daughter said, my son listening to the Macarena in the shower, a sunny, snowy hike I went on today. But I’m having trouble focusing on these lighthearted moments.
Because each time I write one of these stories that begins and ends in the moment, what’s getting left out is the fact that in between all the lovely bits of my day, what I’ve really been doing is checking the news on my phone obsessively. I’ve been thinking about my family members and friends who are Asian-American and hoping they are okay. I’ve been reading about yet another mass shooting, this time in Boulder, a city that I know well.
In the past, I’ve felt compelled to jump into action, my thoughts and opinions fully formed, and a strong sense of exactly needs to change. Now, I’m less sure of what to do. Demonstrations and organized movements are ignored and legislation never passes. Maybe it’s because I’m older. Maybe it’s because I’m personally in a bad place. Maybe because this just keeps happening.
I just don’t know what to say or what to think or what to do. For tonight, I’m going to read my kids their bedtime stories, hug them a little tighter, and give them a few extra kisses.