Close to home

In the aftermath of the Orlando shooting I had reached out to some gay friends, concerned that they would be hurting. Talking with one of them, actually, we were both hurting over it. Still, a difference for me was that it didn't make me feel more vulnerable; no one is targeting straight white people.

Those conversations, and some others that happened around different things, will probably eventually be their own post. This anecdote is just here because, shortly after that, something happened to make me feel more vulnerable. A man was shot walking near my house. When I say near, we are third house down in the cul-de-sac, and he was shot right outside of the cul-de-sac. That is really close. Beyond that, what I have not told anyone yet is that I was almost there.

I have been thinking about how I need to be walking outside more. That is the exercise that works best for me, mentally and physically. I was trying to work out a time that would be safe for me and when I wouldn't be leaving Mom alone. In the morning, while my sisters are getting ready for work seemed like the best time. Some of the streets would be busy then, but I could at least do laps around the park, I thought. I nearly set my alarm Sunday night to do that. He was shot last Monday morning while my sisters were getting ready for work.

It doesn't ultimately mean that the area is unsafe. The shooter has been arrested, and in a relatively short time. There was a confrontation, indicating prior knowledge of each other. (They haven't released any motive, as far as I know.) It didn't even happen in the park, but outside the park. If I was at the top of the walking loop, I would actually be farther from it than I was in my bedroom.

I also could have been on my way back, or just coming around. And then, if there were a witness, could it have not happened?

One other thing that came up in the previously mentioned conversation was that my friend kind of felt guilty feeling more vulnerable or anything like that, because this wasn't about him. I feel that here. I'm not the one who died, I'm not the one going to jail, and I am not the families that are grieving and upset. That's something I think about too.

There is still an awareness that there was danger nearby, and it's an uncomfortable feeling. It's human. I'm human. Maybe something gets our attention because it is so close, or because it is so big, and then with some time and distance we get back to normal. Saturday evening all four of us took a walk in the park, and it was full of children. There are flowers set up across the street as a memorial to the victim, but I have already gotten used to them being there.

One incident is a blip. Some blips are more personal than others but can still be viewed separately. Then sometimes there is a pattern. That's something we'll look at Monday.