There have been times as a writer when I have sat down with only the vaguest notion of what it is I want to write, plopping myself on my chair and placing my fingers on the keyboard and simply hoping and trusting the words will come.
And I’ve been lucky–really lucky–because they usually do.
But tonight they’re not coming.
And maybe it’s because there are none.
I thought when I first heard the news today that my biggest challenge would be how to explain this tragedy to my two oldest sons–but only if they had happened to hear about it, only if they brought it up first.
But that is not my challenge because there is no explanation.
We field questions from our curious children all day every day. And though the “why’s” may occasionally seem incessant, we can provide answers.
We’re the parents. The teachers. The grownups. We know things. We can fill in their blanks.
But who fills in ours when there are no words, no explanations?
How do we explain senselessness?