Not A School Shooting

 A seven year old child was carrying a gun in a Boston elementary school last week. 

Take a deep breath and let that sink in: Seven years old. 

The gun was loaded. 

No one was harmed.

Breathe out. 

Then again, maybe it's far too soon to say whether or not anyone was harmed. The seven year old who had to be persuaded to hand over the gun. No physical harm. The police officers who had to respond to this call and take the loaded gun from the child's backpack. Not injured. Not on the outside, anyway. All the other eight hundred kids who attend that school? None of them were shot. None of the teachers were wounded. No members of the staff had to put themselves in harm's way. 

Except they did. There was a loaded gun on the campus. It was being carried around by someone who has yet to master their multiplication facts. All the parents of all the kids at that school who found out about all the horror that could have happened. They have all had their own version of the active shooter drill that their kids get to experience at school. 

No one got shot.

I'm about as far away as I can be and still be on the same continent, but I still feel hurt by what happened across the country from me. It brought me back to the time when I was asked to confront a fourth grader about what many had suspected was a gun in his backpack. Add that to a couple of the actual lockdowns I have experienced. All the children were safe. No one was hurt. Physically. 

Unless you count the elevated blood pressure, the stress levels, the memories that will be here forever. 

Seven years old. Unhurt? 

Not hardly.