What will I tell my children
15 years from now?
My brave 8 year old boy and his sweet 5 year old sister?
"Why mommy, is daddy away all the time?" They ask:
"Because he is catching the bad guys"
"Which bad guys?"
I pause- they are too young to know this.
All the problems in the world that have to be fixed.
By us. The U.S. The United States of America. Superpower.
My FBI husband, risking his life trying to find terrorists in our homeland.
The drugs that he has to track and seize from dangerous druglords and suppliers.
The murderers and rapists that have too many victims.
"Why mommy are you crying?"
I can't tell them that a friend of mine died in the war.
How he was tortured for three weeks by insurgents in the current war far away and left to die.
"Sometimes mommies need to cry too"
"Why mommy are you angry?"
Should I tell them how screwed up our nation is?
I fight for the minority, trying to pick up the pieces of people after other people discard them.
I fight for justice.
I see brutality every day.
It is my job. I am a social worker in various places.
"Nothing sweetheats, lets go watch some tv."
"Mommy, what is cor-rup-ti-on?" My son asks me while reading the headlines on the paper?
I don't respond to his question. He can't comprehend how a person who is supposed to help our
community, hurts us instead.
"Mommy why are the people sad and not wearing clothes?" My baby girl asks me when seeing
an advertisement for a charity that helps staving people around the world.
If I tell her, she won't ever eat again, because she can't fathom other people not eating while she
is now enjoying a triple chocolate ice cream sundae.
I can't answer. I see the innocence in her curious eyes, and I can't take that away.
Not with the truth.
I wish I could change all of this.
I wish that my children will grow up believing in the good in people, not the brutal truth.
I dread the day that they will know what I am thinking about.
How they will see what I see?