I don't know anything about Paris — The Laundry Knob Society

I don’t know what happened in Paris or Mali. I never turn on the television at home and drive in silence in the car. I know there were shooting and violence, but that’s about it. It’s been an intentional choice to remain ignorant of the details. My heart crumbles for the victims and their families, but fear stops me from going any further.

It’s not because I don’t feel anything during tragedy, perhaps it’s that I feel too much. I’ve traveled to places in Europe and Africa. I’ve eaten in sidewalk cafes and hotel lobbies. It could have been me.

My problem with fear is that I am unable to forget. I still have nightmares from watching horror films at sleepovers when I was a teenager. Nearly thirty years later, you won’t find me in a cornfield, an empty hotel, or near anyone with a hockey mask. These days, I can’t even watch a trailer for a horror film.

This tricky combo of fear without forgetting makes daily living even more challenging for me. I have imagined being on a plane headed for a tower. I have imagined feeling trapped in a college lecture hall. I have imagined racing to the elementary school desperately praying my child was not in that classroom.

But if I stayed in my house and did nothing, I still would not be safe from harm. For now, I will remain uninformed and active. Not because I don’t want the terrorists to win, but because I don’t want to stop enjoying my life. This may not be the best strategy, but it’s all I’ve got to continue to travel, learn, and put my daughter on the school bus every morning.

None of us know what will happen next. There is no script for life. I don’t think there is a God who is just reading the prewritten lines, and we are all acting accordingly.

Every day, I have to make up my own story. And if the next chapter has tragedy and sorrow, then I will do my best to turn it one page at a time. For now, I have to focus on the beautiful part of the unknown future, and keep writing.