Nova Scotia Shooting Spree

Our crazy world has become even crazier.Trying to make sense of lives lost to a virus suddenly seems easier than trying to make sense of lives lost to a gunman – someone pretending to be a police officer for G** sake.

Unease bulges in my throat. I no longer recognize my world. I long for solitude but I don’t want to be alone. Stepping into running shoes I walk out the door, the energy to run gone with the twist of the doorknob.

I walk without a destination, to calm my nerves. I try not to think about families destroyed because they trusted a uniformed person.

I try not to think about too many people, too close together on the pathway. I veer to the overgrown winter grass. When people, dogs, bikes, kids head toward me, I freeze. I wish they would spread out.

When I get home, I bake cookies. Flour, butter, oatmeal, sugar,everything carefully measured, following an ordinary recipe.

But each time I hear a news broadcast between songs on the radio, I am reminded we live in a time that is anything but ordinary.

Peeking in the oven hoping to see the cookies spread out, knowing I have done nothing wrong, I still find myself whispering, I’m sorry.

(photo credit: Engin Akyurt)

One thought on “Nova Scotia Shooting Spree

  1. Meghan Jones says:

    Saying “you’re sorry” can be a pray, sent into the ether and that is no small thing, I think. Your cookies, measuring the ingredients so much a metaphor. When we are on edge and unsure of what’s outside our door I think perhaps faith helps. And so does noticing the precious in our world be they family, Mother Nature and all her creatures, in the nesting and breeding of birds, the continuity of life. Lift up your heart.

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