a purgatory of sorts.

Every night, I check on my son – multiple times – before I got to bed. It’s a dance I perform every hour or so after I put him down in his crib. I climb the stairs without cause, softly push open his door, and let my eyes adjust to the darkness. Sometimes I just stand there listening to him breathe.

After a while I reach down to touch his hair, pat his hip, and go back downstairs. Over the last few months I have found myself checking on him more often. I’m not entirely sure why.

I do know that I am increasingly uneasy. My journaling reflects that. Every night before bed I write a worry I have and something that I am grateful for. Lately, my worries seem a lot easier to identify.

Yesterday, while reading a story about some of the victims from the Las Vegas shooting I paused when I came across a young man who died at 23. “We only had one child,” his parents said. “We just don’t know what to do.”

I stopped reading. I went for a walk. I thought of this young man and his parents. My throat closed in on itself. Then I thought of my son at daycare. Probably sucking his thumb and pushing around a toy car. Then I worried. And I got mad that I have to worry.

I called my senators. Their staffers read prepared statements over the phone.

“I don’t care what he said. What is he going to do?” I asked.

I am still waiting for a response.

2 thoughts on “a purgatory of sorts.

  1. Although a parent never stops worrying about their children, it does seem to be increasingly difficult these days. When our grandparents had children, they had to worry about their kids dying of pneumonia, diphtheria, and many other diseases. Our parents worried about their kids dying from polio and later on from nuclear holocaust. Despite all the advances in science and medicine it just seems that the world is more dangerous than ever. You pray your kids don’t get into drugs and are thankful when you can have a reasoned discussion with them about drugs and alcohol. And then some insane person creates havoc with weapons never intended for sport and you realize you cannot warn your kids about this or protect them from this unless we can convince our lawmakers to join the civilized world and not kowtow to the NRA.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s