Monday, October 1, 2012

They always do...

Sunday morning, I wandered over to Cape May Point to see the butterflies, thousands of flimsy critters assembling at the edge of the sea, grabbing tiny sips of nectar, shoring themselves for the passage across the Delaware Bay.

They clearly recognize themselves, these Monarch butterflies--groups of five or seven, more or less, will flit with each other. Not sure what they're saying, but sure they're saying something in whatever language matters to those with wings larger than their imaginations.

There is so much we do not understand.

I got home to prep for school, something all teachers worth the title do on Sunday afternoons, and I checked my school email.

We lost a child, one I knew, one everybody knew--she was that kind of person.

I wandered out to the garden to collect seeds, because when these kinds of things happen, as they will, it is in the garden I find solace. 

And today many of my students planted zinnias and marigolds and basil seeds, and the seeds will germinate, and they will eventually flower again.

We're grieving here in Bloomfield, and we will for some time, but I need to bear witness today to what i saw--hundreds of young adults under tremendous pain taking care of each other.

I mentioned to someone in the office that the kids were taking as much care of me as I was of them. She looked up and said:

"They always do."

They're at the edge of a wide sea right now, and they do not yet know how they will cross it.

But they will.

They always do.
Butterfly pictures by a variety of Logeman/Carsons (Brendan, Diane, and maybe Sue), used without permission.


Mary Ann Reilly said...

So sorry, Michael. I had heard about the young girl. Prayers to you and your community.

William Chamberlain said...


John Spencer said...


I'm so sorry to hear about the tragedy.

Kate T said...

I am so sorry, Michael. I've been watching my daughters dealing with a senseless death in their world, a young man shot in the back as he walked home with friends - a case of mistaken identity. He was a boy who did everything right and whom everyone loved - and he's gone, and the school is shattered.

Who thinks that they are going to "get back" at someone with a gun?

And the children held the school together, celebrated their classmate, raised money for his funeral. Our hearts are broken. My heart breaks for Bloomfield.

lucychili said...


doyle said...

Thanks, everyone.

Our children are stronger than we know.