Days like yesterday, I just want to burn shit down.
I, like so many, woke up to news about dozens dead and hundreds injured after an angry man opened fire on a sea of strangers in Las Vegas. And then I went through what many of us have experienced so often before: Shock. Anger. Sadness. Frustration.
The terror, then grief, thrust upon hundreds is absolutely needless—and preventable. That’s why I am so furious: Because events like those in Las Vegas (and Orlando, and Sandy Hook, and San Bernadino, and Aurora, and many more) are predictable. They will keep happening—unless we as a country do something about it.
“Raining!” Kiwi shouted, her face beaming and shower-splattered. “Raining! Raining!”
As she ran, her joy in the rain was contagious. “It’s raining!” I echoed, laughing.
It rained this weekend—barely, but anything to quench our burning state’s thirst is welcome. As huge swaths of Oregon burned this summer, we played indoors, asked school to cancel outdoor recess, canceled trips. The inconveniences we endured from smoke-filled air are nothing in comparison to the communities ravaged by forest fire.
So as we skipped and stomped in the shallowest of puddles, the rain felt healing—like the most welcome weather in the world.