If wishes were horses...

One year ago:

My daughter and I are walking out of school. I had spent the day trying to be normal and causual, making it just an average school day for the kids who kept wondering into my room, expecting me to actually teach them something. I was drained and hyper at the same time, I wanted to crawl inside the TV and get as much information as possible, just so I could begin to sort things out.

When Myr got to my room, we talk about nothing specific and I decided to let her lead the conversation. I mean, I hadn't a clue how to begin to process what happened, how the hell am I supposed to talk to a eight-year-old about it. On the way out to the car, she brings it up. She hands me a note the school sent home all about the attack and what they did, or rather, did not, say about it at school.

"Aren't you going to read it?"

"Later." If I had been able to think at all, I would have checked her notes home right away. That way I wouldn't have been ambushed like this.

Two steps later: "They said something bad happened today."

"Yeah, it did. What did you hear?"

"A plane, crashed into a building. It fell down."

Well, she had the basics. "Yeah. That's what happened."

"But it was an accident right? Just an accident."

I latched on to that. An accident. How I wanted to say: YES! It was. Just an accident. A horrible, tragic accident. The world you live in is safe, dear. There really aren't people out there who are willing to kill just because they don't like the way you live. It would be easy to let her live in that safe, wonderful lie.

"No, honey. It wasn't an accident. People meant for it to happen." Damn. How I wanted to lie.

Two more steps. "But... but nobody was hurt, right? Everyone is ok."

Another chance. Lie, damnit, lie. I meant to.

"No. Lots of people got hurt." I hated the world. "A lot of people died."

I don't remember the conversation after that. I only remember how badly, how desperately I wanted to lie.

More importantly, I remember how desperately I wanted that lie to be true.

Today:

We're at home. News is news, and I'm trying to keep it to a minimum because I'm news junkie when I start watching it. I want to know everything. I want to understand. Myr is stressed and tired. She doesn't want any TV on; she's apprehensive that, like last year, every channel would have it. She's angry and she says: "Why do they have to do that, can't we just pretend that it didn't happen?" The tears are there. She's going to cry.

Unless, I agree with her. I could do that. Tell her to go ahead and pretend that it didn't happen. Never think about it. After all, we didn't know anybody involved. I could agree with that. It just didn't happen. Ah... peace: thy name is denial.

"Honey, you can't do that." Damn, damn, damn. This conversation isn't going to get better, I know that. "Pretending that it didn't happen doesn't change that it did."

She's crying now. I made her cry. Why the hell did I do that? "It's okay, Myr. It's okay."

"Go back in time and stop it. Just go back and make it right." She's crying, sobbing. She's never cried about it before. I just hug her and think: She's nine, does she still think that her mom can do anything? Or is she talking to a higher power? In either case, I don't think that's gonna happen.

"I know. But I can't do that. It'll be okay. It will."

"But I just want to forget about it. It would be okay to do that, right?"

There's my little hair splitter: If she can't pretend that it didn't happen then she'll just forget that it did. And after all, why not? It would be a workable solution. We could all just forget that it happened. Leave the memories to those who were more directly affected.

I could let her do that. I'll say it's okay to forget it. She can be happy, then. "You can't do that. Bad things happen. You can't forget that. It's just the way it is. You've just got to remember that it will be okay. And it will. It will be okay."

She stops crying, but she keeps talking about how many people died. So many. All at once. Her words: "So many at one time. In one day. In one hour." And we think kids don't understand things. She's asleep. But I know that this isn't over. I wish she was right. I wish I could say it was an accident and no one was hurt. I wish I could just pretend it away. I wish I did have a time machine. I wish I could just forget. I wish I could be nine and have my mom tell me it is okay.

Oh HELL. I don't want to be the adult.