This is not about me.

I have never lost anyone to gun violence.

Never a family member or a friend.

So, this is not about me.

Emblazoned into my memory are the events of this date in 2014.

That day changed my life. I can tell you where I was as I followed the news.

But this is not about me.

26 children and 9 educators lost their lives that day.

Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut.

I live in Rhode Island.

Next door. Down the street. Around the corner.

I have children. At one point, they were the same ages as those murdered.

I have the memories of my children at that age.

And I have memories of them older because mine were not murdered.

Those parents and those family members were denied future memories.

Denied every hug. Denied every day.

Gun violence did that to them. Stole their children. Stole their futures. All of theirs.

The aftermath was sickening. I had to do something. And I did.

But this is not about me.

Change would occur. Gun violence would be addressed at the federal level.

Finally.

Except it wasn’t. Nothing changed.

Except for ever more carnage. Ever more murder.

And ever more acceptance of this being “normal.”

Some of us remain outraged.

Some demand change.

Some work with survivors. Some work with politicians.

Many offer thoughts and prayers. And move on.

Knowing nothing will change. Some don’t want change.

It’s baked into the American fabric.

It’s the price of “freedom.”

Freedom?

This is not about me.

Except it is.

It’s about me. And you.

Because the list of those not affected by gun violence shrinks every day.

Will I be affected by gun violence?

Will I know someone injured?

Will I know someone was killed?

Will I be a victim?

The list grows ever shorter while nothing changes.

This is about me.

Because I don’t want to join the ranks of survivors, family, friends, victims.

This is about me.

I suffer from hiraeth. I long for euthymia. Logic. Reason. Accountability. Community.

Read this out loud to yourself.

Because this is about you.