Fear

Ten years ago, tragedy and evil struck at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado. I was 11 years old that April and in fifth grade. Although I remember the sadness of the adults around me after the Oklahoma City bombing, I do not remember the tragedy or news coverage of the event specifically. But I do remember Columbine.

I remember the news footage of students running from the building. I remember tearful parents clinging to their children. I remember ghastly images of things that should never have happened at that high school. I remember nation-wide revelation that "our kids" might not be safe, even at the sanctuary that is the schoolhouse. The point is, I remember.

It was the first time in my life that I understood danger and evil as something other than "bad guys." There were pictures and a specific event that marked my new understanding. I remember lectures from the principal about telling an adult if someone is threatening violence. I remember "safety drills," where we had to hide from view of the classroom door. Maybe most terrifying of my memories is when we had to actually use the drill for real at my elementary school one day.

Ten years is a long time. My understanding of safety and evil has very much grown, matured and changed from what is was as a fifth grader behind a desk. But Columbine shaped how I saw evil and a huge part of that view still remains with me.

A lot of times, I am overcome by the fear that comes with the realization that malls, schools, colleges, workplaces, nursing homes, gas stations, private homes, and modes of transportation are far from safe. But like everyone else, if I allow that fear to cripple me I will never live. In the wake of every tragedy the survivors and the public at large find strength to go on, to live. We have to. There isn't another option, really.