When I posted in early May, George Floyd, a Black man in Minneapolis, had not yet been killed by a police officer kneeling on his neck while begging for his mama and his life. Protests for racial justice had not yet begun and I was still walking with crutches, recovering from knee surgery and trying to get you to do schoolwork. Because, back in early May, we were still slogging through online schooling due to the quarantine because of a worldwide pandemic called COVID-19.
I feel like 10 years have passed since my last post. But it’s only been 10 weeks. I struggled with how to tell you about Mr. Floyd and why his murder upset me even though I never knew him. I told you in very plain words the very basic facts about the history of slavery and racism in our country. Telling you these things so your 7-year-old brain could take it all in wasn’t easy. But I tried and I keep trying.
Just like I keep trying to protect you from COVID-19, which continues to rage through the world, killing people and devastating the health of people who are lucky enough to not die. One day you’ll read all these posts and remember the summer of your 7th year as a solitary one. You’ve played by yourself, watched too much YouTube for Kids, target practiced with your .22, and been bored to tears. I’ve been busier than usual with client calls and webinars. And we’ve stayed away from people as much as we could.
Now school is right around the corner. I am afraid to send you. I am scared to keep you home. We know, from experience, that neither of us are cut out for homeschooling. I think I feel like most parents in this country feel right now. Stressed. Out.
But the best thing happened today, and it’s memory I will cherish. I came down to the house and found you on the front porch working to save the life of a small bird. It had hit our windows hard enough to drag you away from the TV. You wanted to take it to a “place that heals birds.” We talked about the circle of life and Mother Nature. You decided it would be o.k. if we put the bird in some bushes where it would be safe from predators and then let nature take its course. As you held it in your hand and stood up, it took off and flew away.
You were so happy the birdie was o.k. and so proud of yourself for helping it. I was so proud of you, too. I loved your worry and compassion for a small bird. I’ve been thinking about how the world would be a better place if all humans were that worried about and compassionate toward each other.
Thank you for being an amazing little human.