We’ve been gone a week visiting family cold rainy drive south to Georgia cold rainy drive north, back home to Maryland perfect weather, really It was our dear sister-in-law’s birthday had she not died last spring We traveled to remember together to feel together to be together Some celebrations are like this
It's Tuesday and I'm participating in Slice of Life. Thank you, Two Writing Teachers, for creating this supportive community of teacher writers.
In recent days, I have been preoccupied by news about a 13 year old middle-schooler, who was killed by an adult in Washington, D.C. There has been limited information released by the police department to date. The Washington Post offered this summation:
Police have said the man told them he heard noises shortly before 4 a.m., left the Quincy Street residence with his legally registered handgun and saw someone it appeared was breaking into vehicles. Two people ran, and the man told police he confronted Karon and shot him. The youth died from several bullet wounds.
What a tragedy.
I drive by the middle school he attended several times a week. My granddaughters and I have played at the nearby playground many times.
I never had the joy of knowing this child, Karon Blake.
A staff person at his school described him as “inquisitive, smart and charismatic — a student who could be found with a book tucked under one arm.”
I’ve been thinking about 13 year olds, developmentally. How they are so ‘discombobulated,’ with their brains and hormones and physiques going through all these wild changes and growth.
Ugh.
I think about my own knowledge of 13 year olds – the shenanigans I pulled at that age, the risks my brothers took, the foolish decisions my boys made, the mood swings of my young relatives, the jarring words and behavior of middle school students . . . on and on and on.
Ugh.
I think about the middle-of-the-night wakeup, the sound of someone breaking into my car. I don’t own a gun; it’s impossible for me to imagine any circumstance when I would be inclined to use one. But, come on – using a gun to solve a problem like this?
I know I would be angry if someone was messing with my stuff. I know I would be angry if someone was breaking my things. Honestly, I’m not that particular about my car, but I would be angry if I caught someone taking stuff from it or trying to steal the car itself…and I would be very confused, probably, in the middle of the night.
I simply cannot imagine doing anything more than yelling – STOP! GET OUT OF HERE, NOW!!
It is unfathomable to me that this situation would be solved with a gun.
A gun?
What a mess we are, as a society.
What a tragedy.
I offer this poem…
Karon moon high in the night sky wee hours of a Saturday morning inquisitive, smart, charismatic 13 year old Karon should have been sound asleep nestled on his pillow, wrapped in his blanket deep in dreams of Legos, Fortnite, possibility of pancakes for breakfast instead moon high in the night sky some craving for adventure some desire for friendship some sense of invincibility takes him outside messing with cars only to meet homeowner with a gun inquisitive, smart, charismatic Karon lies dead on a residential street residential: designed for people to live in this is justice in our own hands? broken cars broken people broken world belongings over belonging
so much that needs doing from the moment she first wakes up and looks about the room she knows she knows she knows this will definitely be a very full day there’s just so much that needs doing in this house a bite or two of her breakfast and she is on the run leave this here! she demands no need to tidy behind her there might be a free moment to grab another bite there’s just so much that needs doing in this house she must have a to-do list though it’s not written down no sooner is one task completed she’s running to the next never a moment to catch her breath and she doesn’t miss a thing there’s just so much that needs doing in this house walk the grounds, check things out look closer at this and that open cabinets, empty the shelves wonder - do these fit inside? wait, what is up there? get the step stool, stretch and reach there’s just so much that needs doing in this house yes, when you are two years old, there’s just so much that needs doing in this house
Do you stop and pause when you see a cardinal? I always do. I am immediately reminded of loved ones who have died.
What’s that expression – “when a cardinal appears, an angel is near”?
A friend sent me the above photo as we were talking on the phone, a scene from her back yard that very moment. She said there were many more cardinals on the ground, that aren’t in the photo. So many cardinals, all at once!
Later that same day, we received some crushing, devastating news about a family member. I think back on the beautiful sight of these cardinals, all together, and can’t help but wonder if they were almost an ‘early warning system,’ a foreshadowing…reminding of love and hope.
It led to this poem…
we got you you know how if you are a ways apart from someone you adore say, across a plaza, or on the other side of the road, you might take your hat off (if you have a hat) and tip it, jostle it, wave it in the air give a happy loving boisterous “hey hey!” this is what cardinals do offering a bit of love from across the way a kiss an embrace a tender look through time also when they gather by the many when you count five six seven or more when you see their bold dotting bright red splashes adorning winter brown branches this is hey, we got you! you are not alone you are not forgotten this means pray, baby, pray be listening be alert be assured you are being held by many feel the power of all we got you
