I debated posting about the slide on Wednesday. I didn’t. It’s guilt. It affected my community. My school. One of my former students lost his life in the slide three years ago. 

But it’s not my story to tell. 

I didn’t lose my mom or grandma, my brother or sister, my dad or friend or my three precious babies. I’m still here. I wasn’t one of the first responders or countless volunteers who didn’t rest until every last person was found so that their families could move forward. 

Why should I tell the story? 

I don’t want anyone to pray for me, or feel sorry for me or pity that it affected me in some way. Because the truth is…I’m still here and it was easier for me to move on. I didn’t bury a loved one or have countless nightmares of the horror I witnessed. 

Why should I share the story?

Yet here I am. Inclined to share something because the guilt is greater for not recognizing or honoring in some way. So instead I ask you to appreciate the people from this town. They are resilient, kind, selfless, helpful and in the toughest times they rally to show love and support to the ones who need it most. 

And the kids. They are the best part of us. The human race. They give us hope and remind us of all the good in the world. If only we could remember how to be kids once in a while when we get caught up in all the self-righteous adulting we like to think we are doing. When instead we are just acting like a bunch of assholes… complaining about the future of this world because this generation is…blah, blah, blah. 

This popped up on my Facebook memories from 2014 and prompted me to write today:

“After a long hard day working with these caring, thoughtful, inspiring middle schoolers and I’m in awe. They raised over $400 today with the change in their pockets and lockers and backpacks. They just want to be able to do something, anything to help. I feel it right along with them and the rest of this compassionate community. The rescue workers and volunteers, all of them doing what they can to help, to make a difference. There are no words to explain this. Right now I’m overcome with sadness, but I also feel pride in this community and I feel hope that somehow together we will help these families through this…”

Proud of you Arlington, Darrington, Oso. And proud of the kids I work with every day. Thank you for reminding me to do better. 

To be better.

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