School Shooting

Imagine what it must feel like. Panic. Fire. Blood. This is a school shooting; this is what happened today at 9:40 a.m. in Sandy Hook Elementary School, Connecticut, USA.

It's not the pictures that kill me, surprisingly. It's the numbers. 27-- 20 kids, 6 teachers (including the principal, I think) and the shooter himself. I cannot even begin to express the grief that the whole nation is feeling right now. You know what hurts? Not paper cuts, not skinned knees. It's the fact that these kids' futures have been ripped away from them. Ages 4-10, these kids will never experience school dances. The first day of high school. Physics. Graduation. College. Professors. Weddings. Jobs. I mean, all it took was somebody with no right to pick up that gun, no right to fire it, "100 rounds" as one parent who was there described it. This is more than gun control, debating, or blaming Obama... this is more than a political brouhaha. Put away your arguments for a moment. Just breathe. Grieve for these lives lost. For all the futures that will never happen. For the teachers who aspired to make these children better. Pray no matter your religion. For survivors, parents, anyone directly or indirectly affected by this tragedy.

I guess this is learning about life. Another part in Anya's Learning How To Grow Up. The director of my school announced it today. She was choking up. Crying, almost. She said: "This could have been any one of us. You are all so precious...I know you think that when we have lockdown drills, it's just a silly precaution, but then something like this happens and it's not."

The weird thing is that I am not at all directly affected by this...not my school, relatives, friends, teachers. And yet I can feel. What's that emotion called? Long-distance sadness, maybe.

Today, I fold cranes for Sandy Hook. :)

Coming Soon: Pop-up cards are beautiful!

What I've learned, 2012

740 cranes! The picture doesn't reflect mine at all, but whatever, I guess. Every crane is beautiful. Every crane feels like a little bit of hope...folding is therapeutic, in a way. I'm almost testing myself. The clock is ticking. Paper, paper, paper. We love and we live, and this is a way to go beyond myself. Origami? I've never been good at drawing, or art in general. My fingers haven't started hurting yet. I fold during class, while I study, eat, read. I do better in school now because I can work with my hands. I'm a kinetic learner: I need to feel. Sometimes I even dream of cranes. I dream that they float down in the wind. I dream that they tell me to keep going, that I am close, and that it is worth it, this project, that has taken me months, that I have doubted myself over, that I have wondered if I can do this. 100 became a goal, 200, 300. And I realized that I would not stop. Not unless my family friend's disease was cured, although what I fold for is bigger than a cure. It is bigger than a violin. I fold because cranes are a promise. One day, I will write a letter, fold it in a crane, seal it in a biodegradable bottle, and throw it out to sea. I think of all the words I haven't said... I fold. Cranes are my constant, my rock, my life vest. Because this year has been hard. Not just this school year; since January. Divorces, runaways, surgeries. Sometimes I wonder if I've made the right decisions. I guess cranes have become more than cranes. Because so many things have betrayed me this year. So many things have gone wrong. But through it all I can fold. It's like the way I practice music, except that for once I can hold something tangible.

740...

I forget to count sometimes, just fold, surprise myself at the end. 60 more, I tell myself now, and I'll only have 200 left. My friends offer to help. Really, this is something I feel like I need to do alone. I wonder, when it comes down to crunch time--next week--what will come out of this. I wonder what it will look like when I'm done. I'm procrastinating on stringing again. I've learned so much: in awe of the kindness of people who fold me cranes and are my personal cheering section, in awe of my own strength, and in awe of my mom, who persuades me to persevere.

Thank you to all the people who have helped me with this project. It is so much more than a piece of paper-- 1000 pieces of paper-- and so much more than a gift. It's ending soon. What will I do? Who knows? I don't. When the phone rings I hope it's not bad news. I am wary of surprises. I don't believe in romance novels anymore. I watch my friends, hoping they're okay. These are all the things I have learned to do this year... When 2012 ends, I know I will have learned the good too. I do believe in miracles now. The power of dreams. When a friend is in need, I will rush to their side. I know life better. I live, I love, I dream, I hope.