I sit like a zombie in front of the tv. Once in position, I cannot move. Like I’m crazy glued to the couch. It’s sunny outside and I have things to do, but I can’t seem to get myself to leave my post. I am incessantly toggling channels. I want to know more. I want to understand. I keep waiting for someone to explain how something like this happens. As if there could be any reasonable explanation. Like Wolf Blitzer is going to give me the 411.
I watch Obama speak and I can see the pain behind his eyes. He is kind and just and I know if he could he would like to go house by house to rid this country of assault weapons. He says, “To actively do nothing, is a decision as well.” Yes, it is. We are all guilty.
I cannot move. But then I do. I make some dinner and try to watch the Tony Awards, but after James Corden’s smashing performance, when I actually smile, I can’t watch anymore because I have to see if there is any more news, any more clues, or if maybe this was a crazy hoax, and there really was no mass shooting at a gay nightclub in Orlando, Florida, where 50 people were killed. People like you and me. People out on a Saturday night. People with moms and dads and friends and careers and hope and hobbies and a whole life waiting for them. I vow to read about them, to honor who they were. Who they were.
I can’t pull myself away, but there is nothing new. Just a sobbing mom who can’t find her son, a friend who lost his friend, people standing in line to give blood, politicians discussing the implications on the election. Oh, and Donald Trump embarrassing himself. Again.
I lay in bed and watch, and scan the computer for some bit of information that will help me understand what is not understandable.
