Thread by @RealMeLeee

This is going to be about gun violence, and could be upsetting; I don’t want anyone caught off guard as I describe what happened to me and my family today.

1) So today I found myself googling “how to talk to your four year old about gun violence.” This is not a topic I ever expected to have to discuss with my pre-schooler, but after we ran out of our local Meijer store, fleeing the sound of gunshots, it’s a topic I had to tackle.

2)There we were, casually browsing on a Sunday afternoon. He had a toy in the cart, I had some socks and shirts. There was a two pack of ibuprofen and some adorable slippers for my niece in the cart as well, and a shelf decoration with a cute slogan on it that was on clearance.

3) His dad and I were starting to look at car seats; my son and I had been in a car accident yesterday and we were following the popular advice to replace the car seat after an accident. I turned to him to point out the moderately priced convertible car seat when I heard it.

4)I don’t shoot guns now, but I have shot guns before in my life. I have also heard gunshots occasionally (usually during hunting season, but sometimes target practice, common enough when you grow up in the country.) Let me tell you, in case you doubt:

Gunfire is unmistakable.

5)The gunshots were, I now know, at the front entrance of the store; the car seats / baby section is about 3/4ths of the way to the back. The first sound, a muffled thump, could have been a box falling. However, when 2, 3, 4, 5 muffled thumps came in quick succession, I knew.

6)I threw a startled, then horrified look at my husband. I grabbed the cart where my four year old was sitting fiddling with the toy he wanted to get. I made a move towards the back, knowing there were doors there; I heard raised voices and my husband moved towards the front door

7)He later told me he second guessed himself (“is that really gunfire?”). If this is ever you: don’t. Do not second guess; as I told him, better to be wrong and look a little foolish running away, then to end up in worse danger.
I was mid- run when I heard the confirmation yell:

8)A womans voice, full panic: “active shooter! Run! Run! Out the back!”

Myself. My son, in the cart. My husband. Running, don’t stop, go, get out, doors straight ahead, a store staff yell-whispering “here, here, out, out the back!” Guiding us and the frantic others out...

9)The cart! Leave it, might have to run far, off pavement; yank my son out, husband grabs him. Son lost a shoe, can’t stop, leave it, go, go! Store alarm sounding as the fire doors are thrown open; run, go, go, away from the door. We are behind the store and this is not better.

10)We are trapped if danger is coming out of the store behind us, or from around the building; too many of us, we are a crowd, sitting ducks. Scanning, frantic, we run, husband has son, to the trees lining the lot: trees, ditch, field! Escape route, wait here poised but ready.

11)I see scared faces, couples, a mom with two kids, a single woman, she’s got her cell phone out and is calling 911. I can’t breathe but I am breathing, horrible gasps of fear and anxiety. My son, my son, he’s all I can think of. Husband speaking calmly, trying to soothe us.

12)Time moves slowly when you’re waiting: waiting to hear sirens, waiting to hear more gunshots, waiting to decide: run more or wait here. Waiting, with a four year old, in the wind and the cold, trying to be calm for him while in complete terror. Waiting for safety and surety.

13)Eventually the sirens are there. The police, fire, EMS are there. We are safe; probably. Husband goes back to see if he can see sons shoe, returns to us with it. Says we can go around the building. We do, alert the whole time, scared, just wanting to get home and be safe.

14)We slowly made our way around the building, watch an ambulance drive away full lights and sirens. We get to the van, then get home. Along the way, fragments come together as we speak to others: one person shot. Both doors are being taped off. They haven’t caught the shooter.

15)That last piece of info made us move quicker. We left, fast.

We’re home now and have been for hours. I still can’t breathe; I keep hearing the sounds of gunfire again and again. I keep thinking, as a parent, my job is to keep my kid safe. And I might not be able to do it.

16)My most basic job, keep my kid safe, and we live in a place and time where I might fail at this, this basic duty, to keep my kid safe. Someone else, with a gun and a grudge, can turn our lives upside down in the space of thirty seconds, less. We lived, this time. Safe, for now

17)I’m not sure how I want to wrap this up. It was an ordinary day, then there was gunfire. I’ve had to process it with my husband; we had to figure out how to talk to our son about it. Tomorrow I’ll have to warn his pre-school teacher to watch for signs of trauma. Life goes on.

18)For us, life goes on. We were lucky. But it shouldn’t be a matter of luck. Today, a person was shot, and everyone lived, but it shouldn’t be “we are grateful and fortunate” because living or dying at the grocery store (or school, or church) shouldn’t be a matter of luck.
End.