I don’t remember the faces of the children who died in Uvalde, Texas.
I don’t remember the names of the family members who died in Buffalo, N.Y.
I don’t remember the exact number of school shootings in 2022.
I don’t remember the hopefulness I had 10 years ago after Newtown, 40 minutes
away, that the bloodshed would end in schools.
I don’t remember the exact number of guns in this country.
I don’t remember how much money members of Congress receive from the NRA.
I don’t remember when I lost hope that anything would change regarding our leadership.
I don’t remember who made the innocuous rule for buying sinus pain medication at a pharmacy. Yet, crazy young men can purchase weapons of mass destruction without background checks.
I don’t remember why our country chooses guns over children.
I don’t remember any country outside the USA admiring our gun safety laws.
I don’t remember our country being in such chaos 30 years ago when hearing
of a school massacre was out of the ordinary. Now it’s an everyday occurrence.
As the poet Mary Oliver eloquently wrote, will we make it through this wild
and astonishing life? Or will we be shot? Shot inside a grocery store, church, or school.
I don’t remember feeling so unAmerican while living in America with July 4th
approaching and patriotic flags dancing in the breeze. What are we celebrating?
I don’t remember.