March for Our Lives is about fear and grief but also about frustration and determination. There is a way of living in many schools of being insecure and on edge. Trying to learn becomes fragmented, lessons are presented and effort by all is given. However,the brain also reacts to every unknown sound,every shadow and every discord in the close environment . Both students, teachers alike have their internal antennas tuned to the Emergency Broadcast system in their nervous system. When I was younger, we all knew that if the EBS siren went off then followed by a stern announcement , there was 3-7 minutes before the Soviet missiles were to strike. Now, the students do not have an EBS (Civil Defense) siren and in 3-7 minutes, 17 of their friends or teachers could be dead and many more could be injured. There is no warning and no chance to even draw a defensive tool or weapon. The news will report the details of the “shooting”. Yet again, the faceless people(and creatures) will be added to another news archive and history will document another societal crime. The faceless people momentarily noted and added to the archives. The easily swapped photos lead to a careless notice which has been getting more and more blurred in the attempt to bring attention to another event in a hurt, bruised and numb community. There are times where Fear and Frustrations will have a downhill impetus to reach a pitching point . At that point, events morphed and historical reality shifts and we are left with parts in which to do something .
Out of Confusion, interesting conversations can happen, just listen.
I rolled over and after a few moments decided to get up and face the music. Otherwise my mother or my sister will be barging in. I have my own place, but my mother insisted on having a key to my place, in case I can’t answer the door or reach the phone. It was a sound, rational reason. Reasonings my mother has used to achieve her accomplishments. Practical, realistic talents to look at places, things and people, and use her intelligent assessments to get things done(especially when she knows the way it should be done). She was the Matriarch of the family,even though she wasn’t the oldest. Her mother said and every one knew who held the true power in the family. I hoped I wasn’t in too much trouble, running off from setting up the party! What possess me? Why would I decide to go off and look for Olympia, IN THE FOREST? The party was going on in just a couple of hours. She would have wandered back. Members of her soccer team were coming to the party, she had to meet them.
I drew in a deep breath, everyone was going to be furious. I had been irresponsible, undependable, unreliable, lazy. Why had I taken off ? I still had to take the centerpieces to the tables and find something to weigh the napkins down. I shook my head. ow! OW! that hurt! A hangover? I don’t remember drinking anything. What was going on? Hell, I don’t remember going into Olympia’s house. I must be in her guest room . We don’t have a room like this in Mom’s house or mine. I blinked and focused my eyes, the pain had dulled.
There were long, lacy shears at the window. The sky was paler than earlier. I haven’t watched the noon weather. Was there a storm coming in!? Oh brother, where were we going to put everyone!? There was a painting on the wall of a meadow and sunflowers along a wooden fence, it could have been anywhere in the South. I looked around expecting to see pictures of Magnolias and cotton fields, but there weren’t any pictures. The walls were covered in a pale pink wallpaper with tiny rosebuds painted on the crossings of a printed lace lattice. The room reminded me of my grandmother’s formal room. My grandmothers loved antiques, and going “junking”. They loved their junk and would plainly state to any of us in the family who would roll our eyes at their purchases. I was cold. I had heard of people who made their house frigid with the air conditioning, but still come on. I heard sounds but I couldn’t make it out. I pulled on my shoes, which were still damp. I drew in a breath and said a little prayer .
A journey is a time and place around you. It may be as easy as delivering a gift to someone who needs the gift and a bit of human interaction. A journey can be traveling to visit a close family member who has moved. Sometimes, a journey is just finding a bathroom for a young child,who NEEDS to go. Journeys can be short in the architectural sense but very long in the hopes,dreams and striving to achieve realms. People like to plan for journeys, excursion, vacations or just the normal ” “running errands”and such. There is a comfort in the challenge to complete the plans.
The journey can be exciting and a little scary or it can be a continuity and comfort in the familiarity of the trip. Moving from one item on the list to another place is a part of living, it is a way to stretch and revitalize our bodies and minds. It is also, a way to live and achieve that is sometimes understandable, sometimes frustrating or annoying. We accept that there are places and manners that we have to do in order to accomplish what we strived to achieve.