The last few days have been hard on us. It’s hard to believe President Obama is coming to our city to comfort us. This what Charleston, San Bernardino and other cities must have felt when violence hit them: it happens elsewhere, but not to us. Until it did.
Mark and I live five blocks from where the shooting happened. On Thursday night, we watched the horror unfold on TV, looking at ourselves in the safety of our home and saying, this is happening five blocks away from us. Earlier that night, I drove past the shooting scene after running an errand, as I have done many times, an hour and half before the madness began.
Last night, close to dusk, I went down to Industrial Boulevard to take photographs of the signs of the bail bonds businesses for a personal project. As I drove toward I-35 looking for more signs, I stumbled upon this door. It felt good to see that, it tapped into the love I have for this city, and it made me smile for a moment. I thought of the many others who share that love and who share the sentiment on that door.
I also felt a flash of strength and feistiness, which has been in short supply these days. As soon as I felt that, I also felt it was too soon to feel strong and feisty, to get up and dust off, to feel hopeful about the future of our city; I’m still grieving, as many of us are, and need more time to get there. But I’ve also thought this: Although we are still feeling beat down and wounded and it may be difficult for us to feel strong, we will eventually get to a place where our strength and resolve will allow us to move forward to continue to make this city a better, gentler place to call home.