We woke to zero and bundled up better than ever to stand in a circle outside the post office where the green banner hung with the sweet faces of those 20 children and the tender adults who cared for them.
There would be no classroom photos of loved ones this year. Noah would not turn a year older. He would not lose his tooth. The candles of the Menorah would be lit without him.
We came for different reasons and for the same reasons, and we came because…
because children deserve our protection;
because it’s criminal to let this continue;
because without the collective consciousness, we are without a compass…
Despite the bitter cold, we chose not to step inside the Meetinghouse, but we rang its bells, “28 times,” (as decided) including Adam and his mother, among the names we spoke:
of each child,
We were an aging group–the youngest almost 50, and the rest older still. The young people were at home with the children, doing the work of families; while we stood as their representatives, in witness.
There were 10 of us in all, some strangers, some dear friends, sharing hopes and tears, and ending with a long, group hug.
Saturday, December 13, 2013