We just got back from an amazing vacation in Montego Bay where it was all about family, sunshine, surf, fruity drinks and food galore. We stayed (once again) at the Hilton Rose Hall Spa and Resort and cannot sing its praises enough! We love everything about this place … especially the waterslides, swim-up bar, and ability to take catamarans right out from the beach.
We only had wi-fi in our room so for the majority of the day, we were offline … and, for someone who checks her email a thousand times a day, it was truly blissful.
That is, until Monday afternoon when a family member told us about the horror unfolding in Boston. I felt sick to my stomach, envisioning families with small children watching the race or groups of friends just hanging out cheering on the runners …. and then hell breaking loose.
Every time something like this happens — and it happens just about weekly now, it seems, one tragedy or another — I feel both desensitized to the news as well as enraged at the 24/7 coverage. Yet, as a news junkie … I cannot look away.
I am sickened that this is the world in which Maya will grow up in. Even just this past week, we were talking about pre-9/11 security, how you’d go to the gate with people who were traveling. I remember my parents walking me onto the jetway when, at 16, I went to Greece. Or, at 19, when I left – alone – for four months of studying abroad in Argentina. Those innocent days are long gone.
And now we aren’t safe anywhere. Not at school. Not in malls. Movie theaters. Military bases. Banks. Courts. Political rallies. Marathons.
I don’t have any answers … but I do have lots of questions, and there is no one who can answer my millions of “whys”.
I had wanted to share more about our vacation, but none of that feels right now. I left hot, sunny, breezy and beautiful Jamaica and came home to miserable gray Michigan with snow flurries dotting the sky. I was happy there … blissfully happy. And now that I’m back? Scared for humanity. Scared for what lies ahead.
This isn’t the world I want to raise my daughter in. Short of wrapping her in bubble wrap, the best I can do is be a good mom to her. Teach her right from wrong. And pray things do, somehow, get better.
Because things aren’t better for at least three families today — not to mention the countless seriously injured victims.
Pray for Boston … I will be doing the same.