I was going to write a post about how I now am the mother of a one-year-old. I was going to tell stories about how she was so excited about unwrapping her presents that she repeatedly hit me in the face as she tore the paper or how she was so disgusted by the frosting on her cupcake that she wiped it off and smeared it on my hand in an attempt to get rid of it.
I was going to talk about how her birthday was a pretty good day, despite the fact that she decided to share the stomach bug that hit her last Sunday.
There were sirens down the street shortly after I went to bed. I live just off of a major street, so I didn’t really think anything of it. I frequently hear sirens at night. I woke up at about 2:30 feeling more than a little nauseated. (Like I sad, Mommy’s Little Vector shared her germs.) I checked Facebook before trying to fall back asleep. And that’s when I saw the news.
Mass shooting. In my hometown. Those sirens? Responders going to one of the scenes. Yes, everyone I know is safe, but several other people aren’t. (Six killed at last report. More injured.)
I had a hard time falling asleep after that. Kalamazoo has its share of problems. Gangs, drugs, poverty. But in general, it’s pretty safe from the random acts of violence that plague other cities.
But not last night.
I have a one-year-old. And I’m grateful we were home, safe, last night.