Remember the days

April 20, 1999. Where were you? Do you remember? Ten years ago today has become one of those days that remains burned into my consciousness. I can tell you where I was. What I was wearing. Where my mind was. It was the first year of my teaching career; I was walking through the building shortly after school ended I caught glimpse of CNN on a Channel One TV. What I saw happening in that sweet school in Littleton, Colorado, terrified me. Not just the reality of the mayhem and murder, but the realization that here I was a teacher now; what if I was there? What if that was my school? My co-workers? My kids? What if I was needed to protect the lives of my students from a killer? It is not really discussed in education classes that among the certainties of state standards, invasive laws, and the emotional co-existence with teenagers, that part of a high school teacher’s job now included being a bullet proof vest. Protecting other people’s babies from well, other people’s babies, was now part of the job description. I accepted my new role even despite my mother’s consistent reminder that my job was also to protect me, her baby.
So, the day changed me. It has stayed with me like some days do. September 11, 2001. May 13, 1988. April 3, 2005. Interestingly –or miserably—all days of sorrow. Why is that? Why do more sad dates stay with us so? Even though I find myself typically optimistic, it frustrates me I have more of these gloomy dates in my head than dates of happiness.
After watching a couple of moments of “Remembering” on the nightly news, I took Hudson, dressed in an oversized Purdue sweatshirt, into the kitchen and turned on the radio. He was unhappily jabbering at me and I began to unload the dishwasher. I felt gloomy. Some noisy dance-song, I truly don’t remember what one, came on the radio and I went over and swiftly grabbed him out of his Winnie the Pooh walker and cranked up the music. His eyes got big. I started dancing. Illogically. Absurdly. Hudson laughed. Faster I spun. Harder I stomped my feet. Swollen gums smiled brightly back.
Ten years from now let me remember a happy April 20, 2009, with my silly son. Let dates be remembered for more happiness than grief.