our go-bags are packed. the dog crate is in the car and the cat crate is in the sitting room, ready. important papers are in a tote bag and the backpack awaits our laptops and all the related power cords. one more bag sits open for a few clothes and toiletries.
i feel unhinged.
i wrote to my children that it is unbelievable and real at the same time. this is true. we have no idea what dusk will bring, what the dark hours of the night will be like in our downtown, in our neighborhood, a city wracked in pain and fraught with the tension of social injustice gone exponential.
we sit. holding our heads.
we drove through downtown today for the first time. it was the first time since sunday that we had even been out, beyond taking a short walk in the neighborhood. we went to the grocery store where they had humongous stacks of water bottles near the door, ready for protesters, first responders, law enforcement, anyone thirsty in near 100 degree feels-like temperatures. we picked up a few things and headed home, taking a slight sidetrip through our very-nearby downtown.
it was stunning. heartbreaking. it made me cry.
we had seen pictures of the downtown all boarded up, but we had not been there yet. we did not ambulance chase nor were we there to help board up or bring food or water in the last few days. we, paralyzed and from our home, wrote about this experience, wrote about the surreal feelings we had listening to the sounds of inequality, the smoky smells of injustice, the taste of fearful adrenaline all must feel in the situations that have brought us here.
and so we hold our heads in our hands. we weep for the families of every person victimized by violence. we stand in the muck of a society that has perpetuated this unfair treatment, that has made excuses for it, that has steeped itself in hatred and bigotry.
and we fear what is to come when the sun sets.
read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY
view or purchase the full painting, THREE GRACES
THREE GRACES ©️ 2012 david robinson