Why? How? A Grandmother's Questions
My stomach twisted into a knot today as I drove to my granddaughter's school. I kept my voice light and pointed out the various animals along the way, like we normally do, but inside I prayed. I prayed hard. The line of cars dropping kids off was shorter than normal. Fear? Flu? Both? When Columbine happened, both of my daughters had graduated from high school. My stepchildren still attended school but two hours away. I never had to drop them off at the doors of the school. And I admit that when Columbine happened, I never dreamed this would become a recurring tragedy. Like the rest of us, as each shooting occurred, I staggered under the horror, but today it was different. That was my heart walking in those doors. My granddaughter is in kindergarten, which hits home even harder. She came to live with us a month ago, and each morning I drop her off in front of the school and watch her prance into the building happy to be there. I don't want her to lose that joy for