Go, go, go

As with all working mothers, I tend to rush a bit in the morning. There is coffee to brew, lunches to be made, makeup to be applied, backpacks to grab, and a whole host of other things to be done in those precious moments between waking and getting myself and the kid out the door and to our respective locations. Friday was just the same. I sat in the driver’s side of the car, waiting not so patiently for my son to exit the vehicle. However, I was stunned by my rush, rush attitude and had to take a minute to slow down and appreciate this small moment.

One week ago, parents in Uvalde, Texas, were doing the same thing: rushing the kids out the door, hurrying them out of the car, and driving away to work. One week ago, these parents said their last words to their children. How many of those last words were “Hurry up, I am late!” before they sped away?

I am not going to talk about politics—I will leave that to the lawmakers who are busy yelling at each other across party lines. I am not going to talk about the killer—I will leave that to the psychologists. I am not going to talk about school shootings in the past few decades—I will leave that to the thousands of reporters around the country who are throwing out statistics and timelines.

I want to talk about those parents, our neighbors a mere 250 miles to our southwest, who spent last Tuesday morning like any other. Those parents hit the alarm clock, stumbled to the coffee pot, and began a morning that is probably familiar to all of us. They rushed the kids out of the house, and some of them probably forgot a school project. They drove to school or the bus stop, and as the kids exited, some may have been lucky enough to say “I love you” before they parted ways.

In this world of social media cliches, it seems trite to say those parents have my thoughts and prayers, but they do. I pray for those parents every day. I cannot imagine their pain, a pain that no parent should ever have to endure. I pray that the parents are not haunted by what ifs: what if they had stopped for coffee, what if they had called in sick, what if? I pray that their last words to their precious babies were ones of love and not ones of anger or distraction. I pray that I never forget life can change in an instant and that I always tell my loved ones that I love them. Most importantly, I pray that I remember to spend every moment appreciating the time I have with my son, even if we really need to go, go, go!

The column represents the thoughts and opinions of Ana Cosino. Opinion columns are NOT the opinion of the Navasota Examiner.

Ana Cosino is a God-loving, Navasota hometown gal, Navasota High School graduate, Publisher of The Navasota Examiner but most importantly mom to her pride, Jason.