They Are All Happening – Love, Terror, Bliss, Sorrow

The image of the father and daughter who drowned trying to enter the United States is constantly in my thoughts. I’m heartbroken, angry, and disheartened. Their bodies lie unusually still; her tiny arm wrapped around his neck. Valeria. That’s her name. Her father’s name is Oscar; the same name my best friend gave her son.

I saw my friend’s Oscar born on New Years Eve years ago, and will always be grateful for the experience. I’ll never meet the other Oscar.

“They deserve it,” 45’s supporters say. “It’s our country and there’s no room for them here,” they spew. Except, unless you’re Native American, didn’t your family come here once, too? For the chance of a better life? That’s what Valeria’s family was trying to do. They (and it’s 100% legal to seek asylum by the way) were seeking asylum here in America.

What would you do for your kids? Stay in a place where your family isn’t safe?

I can’t get them out of my head. While I wish I never saw the image of the two of them on the side of the river, I’m also glad that I did, in order to know this is going on. Were I to remain ignorant of what’s happening in the world, there would be no way to help. To speak out.

They Are All Happening – Love, Terror, Bliss, Sorrow

It’s been a while since I’ve had a massage. A few years, at least. Today, as I lie unusually still on the massage table, I think about Valeria, and children in cages, and how I don’t deserve a massage. “I should drive down there and do something,” I think. But what? 

I focus on breathing, and think how good this massage feels, even in areas I don’t normally think about. The masseuse works her way down my foot, my mind fully in the small spot beneath my ankle bone.

A little girl named Valeria will never grow up. 

With each massage, I wonder whether I should say “skip my legs, and do more shoulder time.” I’m grateful I said nothing, because the spots around my knees and thighs feel amazing. It’s bliss.

Nobody will ever meet the other Oscar. Where’s his wife now? Valeria’s mother? What did she see? Does she know?

Our world is a constant of utter, complete bliss and the worst, most terrible sorrows, continually tangled and happening side by side, over and over. It’s unfair I’m inhaling spa aromas while babies at the border smell only other baby’s unclean bodies and breath.

And yet, there’s something else there, too. Were I to allow the image of Valeria and all the tragedies happening right now to consume me, I would collapse within myself. Become a raisin of a person.

Tucker’s here. I’m here. We’ll celebrate a huge milestone next week. Seven days from today is when my not-so-little-little-boy (always my baby) turns double digits. Celebrating him, a fairly uncomplicated life, and getting a massage once every few years does not take away from the horrors happening elsewhere. They are all happening. Love’s happening, right now. Terror, too.

They Are All Happening – Love, Terror, Bliss, Sorrow

Maybe, getting a massage allows me to look up from dinner tonight and smile at my son’s request to play outside. Not playing outside won’t open cages or hearts, after all. In fact, it’s possible that playing outside and getting a massage are part of what heals me enough to read the next article and pick up the phone to make a donation. Make me strong enough to talk to my son about fairness and equality, and hopeful enough to believe that one day, with his generation or the next, that empathy and love will win over fear.

Wishing you strength and hope, friends. Always.
XO,
Kristi

For ways to help, click here. 

This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday prompt, with the photo prompt “Unusually Still,” provided by Mardra Sikora.