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liberalsarecool · 2 years

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Written by a mother of an Uvalde victim:

"The chicken soup in her thermos stayed hot all day while her body grew cold.

She never had a chance to eat the baloney and cheese sandwich. I got up 10 minutes early to cut the crust off a sandwich that will never be eaten.

Should I call and cancel her dental appointment next Wednesday? Will the office automatically know?

Should I still take her brother to the appointment since I already took the day off work? Last time Carlos had one cavity and Amerie asked him what having a cavity feels like.

She will never experience having a cavity.

She will never experience having a cavity filled.

The cavities in her body now are from bullets, and they can never be filled.

What if she had asked to use the bathroom in the hall a few minutes prior to the gunman entering the room, locking the door, and slaughtering all inside?

Was she one of the first kids in the room to die or one of the last?

These are the things they don’t tell us.

Which of her friends did she see die before her?

Hannah?

Emily?

Both?

Did their blood and brains splatter across her Girl Scout uniform?

She just earned a Fire Safety patch.

What if it got ruined?

There are no patches for school shootings.

Was she practicing writing GIRAFFE the moment he walked in her classroom, barricaded the door and opened fire?

She keeps forgetting the silent “e” at the end.

We studied this past weekend, and now she doesn’t need to take the spelling test on Friday.

None of them will take the spelling test on Friday.

There will be no spelling test on Friday.

Because there is no one to give it.

And no one to take it.

These are the things I will never know:

I will never know at what age she would have started her period.

I will never know if she had wisdom teeth.

(Or if they would have come in crooked.)

I will never know who she spoke to last. Was it the teacher? Was it her table partner, George? She says George is always talking, even during silent reading.

Did she even scream?

She screamed the lyrics to We Don’t Talk About Bruno at 7:58 AM as she hopped out of my car in the circle drive.

She always sings the Dolores part, her sister sings Mirabel and I’m Bruno.

“And I wanted you to know that your bro loves you so

Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it goooooo……..”

Did the killer ever see Encanto?

Could we have sat in the same row of seats, on the same day, munching popcorn?

What if Amerie brushed past him in the aisle? Did she politely say, “Excuse me,” to the boy who would someday blow her eye sockets apart?

Was he chomping on bubble gum as he destroyed them all?

If so, what flavor?

Cinnamon?

Wintergreen?

Was the radio on as he drove to massacre them? Or did he drive in silence?

Was the sun in his eyes as he got out of the car in the parking lot?

Did his pockets hold sunglasses or just ammunition?

These are the things I will never know.

There is laundry in the dryer that is Amerie’s.

Clothes I never need to fold again.

Clothes that are right now warmer than her body.

How will I ever be able to take them out of the dryer and where will I put them if not back in her dresser?

I can never wash clothes in that dryer again.

It will stand silent; a tomb for her pajamas and knee socks.

Her cousin’s graduation party is next month and I already signed her name in the card. Should I cross it out?

That will be the last card I ever sign her name to.

The dog will live longer than she will.

The dog will be 12 next month and she will be eternally 10.

What will the school do with her backpack?

It was brand new this year and she attached her collection of keychains like cherished trophies to its zipper.

A beaded 4 leaf clover she made on St. Patty’s Day.

A red heart from a Walk-a-Thon.

A neon ice cream cone from her friend’s birthday party.

Now there will be no more keychains to attach.

No more trophies.

Surely they can’t throw it out?

Would they throw them all out?

19 backpacks, full of stickered assignments and rainboots, all taken to the dumpster behind the school?

Is there even a dumpster big enough to contain all that life?

These are the things someone else knows:

The moment the semiautomatic rifle was put into his hands--was “Bring Me a Higher Love” playing in the gun store? “Get off my Cloud” by the Rolling Stones? Maybe it was Elton John’s “Rocket Man.”

Did the Outback Oasis salesperson hesitate as they slid him 375 rounds of ammunition?

not my problem my kids are grown and out of school

Or I don’t have kids, so I don’t have to worry about their skulls getting blown across the naptime mat

Or fingers crossed there’s a good guy with an equally powerful gun that will stop this gun if needed

Did they sense any danger or were they more focused on picking that morning’s Raisin Bran out of their teeth?

My Nana used to say, “Pay attention to what whispers, and you won’t have to when it starts screaming.”

But now I know there is a more deafening sound than children screaming.

More horrific even, than automatic rifles on a Tuesday morning.

I beg the world:

Pay attention to what’s screaming today, or be forced to endure the silence that follows."

#uvalde #heartbreaking

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in-need-of-gally-content · 9 months

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|Chapter•Seven|

•|Masterlist|•

(M/n) couldn't sleep well that night. He wasn't sure why, exactly, but he had an idea of why. Images flashed behind his closed eyelids whenever he fell asleep, waking him up abruptly.

He didn't know if he was just having bad dreams or if he was having flashbacks of his life before coming up in the Box, but he did know that he didn't like the images he saw, making his fists close tightly while his jaw tightened, the sound of a weak voice, breaking as they pleaded for their attackers to stop hurting them. Something told him it was... Gally that he saw and heard, but he wasn't sure, everything was blurry and the images went by too quickly for him to see properly.

He sat up on his thin mattress, looked outside his window, and figured it was rather late, or early? It seemed like it was close to 4 am or something like that. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before looking down at himself.

He was gross. His skin and scalp felt irritated and itchy due to the dirt and sweat stuck on him, so he decided to shower, after all, everyone was sleeping and the bathrooms were rather separated from the shower room and Homestead.

(M/n) rummaged in his bag and found what was left of his clean clothes, he only had one more change of clothes, and three pairs of clean underwear. He grabbed what he needed and walked out of his tree house, placing his clothes on the wooden rail while he lowered the ladder and secured it in place. Closing the door and placing his clothes on his shoulder, he walked down the ladder and jogged his way to the showers.

//////

He stayed there for a while longer than he thought, washing his hair and body thoroughly with mostly water but finding some soap he could use, smelling somehow nice. He dried his body with a clean towel, knowing all washed towels were kept inside a few crates in the shower room, and he got dressed.

His hearing picked up the subtle sound of Gladers waking up, and he grabbed one of the big containers used to do laundry, his dirty clothes were there and he was gonna wash the rest of his stuff.

No way in hell was he gonna let any of the Sloppers -especially Peter or Jason- touch his stuff.

Walking back to his treehouse, he heard Bark, his barking kept getting louder the closer he got and he saw him there, standing in front of the lowered ladder with a protective stance, Gally standing in front of him, clearly done with Bark's attitude but not trying to push him aside.

The sight made him laugh, catching both of their attention.

"You guys don't get along, do ya?" Bark ran up to him and nudge his legs with his head, barking and whining happily as he looked up at him, he absentmindedly held the container with one hand, propped on his hip while he reached down to pet Bark's head, scratching behind his ears, his (e/c) eyes locked on Gally, who shrugged at his question.

"I don't know what I did to make him dislike me, but I guess you could say that, yeah," they laughed as he made his way up the ladder, Bark followed him and he placed his dirty clothes on the small balcony, going back down to pick up Bark as the poor dog kept whining to be let up as well, Gally simply watched from below, leaning against one of the trees.

"Hey, Gally," (M/n) called from inside, grabbing the pile of clothes in the corner of the room.

"Yeah?" He heard his voice muffled and distant through the wooden walls, and he stepped out again, dumping everything in the same container.

"Is there some spare rope I could use?" Gally frowned and thought for a moment, before slowly nodding.

"I think so, just wait," Gally turned around and started running back toward the Homestead.

While he waited, his hands rubbed at the dried dirt on his clothes, watching the water turning darker as he continued washing everything, all that he had already washed had been squeezed to get rid of the excess water and they were placed on top of the railing.

He was almost done rinsing when he heard the loud thump Gally's footsteps made on the dirt, sticks breaking under his weight as he approached.

"Found it!" He called when he was close enough, making his way halfway up the ladder, stopping to prop his forearms on the top, watching (M/n) rather attentively as he handed him the rope he asked for.

"Thank you, big guy~," he said in a cheery tone as he grabbed it and headed back inside. Tilting his head slightly, Gally watched how (M/n) tied one end of the rope to one of the roof supports, leaving some rope hanging as he tied the other end across.

Bark remained sat outside on the balcony, pretty much right next to Gally's head and they both observed silently how (M/n) hung up his washed clothes inside, averting his green gaze away when he picked up his underwear and soon decided to head back down seeing as it was pretty much the last thing he had left.

//////

Breakfast went by quickly and pretty chill, nothing much happened, probably because everyone was waiting for the Box to come up with supplies. One of those Gladers that were waiting was Gally, alongside some other Builders... And Billy. They were considered the strongest so they were usually the ones to unload the Box whenever it arrived.

(M/n) watched by the hammocks, sitting near the entrance of the Homestead, how Gally held his sketchbook and worked away. Or well, he assumed he was working on a new sketch or blueprint for something that needed to be built or fixed. He hadn't seen him use it since he arrived but Mikah had mentioned that Gally was rather diligent and committed to his job, how he could be hours sketching and planning the next thing he will be working on.

And it appeared to be rather important to Gally, knowing how no one was allowed to touch it. He wondered why. Especially when he saw the curly-haired blond standing behind Gally and looking with wide eyes over his shoulder, before turning away as soon as the alarms announcing the Box coming up blared around them.

He observed how Gally closed his sketchbook with the pencil inside and secured it with the strap that hung from it, and attached it to his utility belt.

A few minutes later, the alarms turned off and the mechanical gate opened, leaving way for them to open the metal doors. Gally was the first one to jump in, followed by Billy while the Builders around helped them take everything out of the Box.

(M/n) wanted to help around too, but he was told by Alby to observe and learn the approach everyone had when it came to unloading the supplies, and he noticed how coordinated they were, muttering loud enough for him to hear them saying, 'kitchen', 'blood house,' 'gardens,' and such.

Then he saw Alec turn to look at him, squinting because of the bright afternoon sun, "Greenie!" He saw beckoning him to go there, so he did. He placed his empty cup of water next to him and jogged toward the Box. Gally looked up at him with one eye closed due to the sunlight, a closed wooden crate in his hands.

"This is yours, greenie," Gally said raising the crate toward him. (M/n) frowned for a moment before reaching down to grab it from his hands. His name was written on a piece of paper stapled to it, "Make way," he glanced down and saw Gally holding onto the edges of the Box, clearly trying to get out.

He hurried to place the crate down and help Gally up, only him, no one else tried to help. He could only guess why.

"Let me help you," Gally groaned in response, but didn't attempt to push him away.

"I can do it by myself," (M/n) only scoffed playfully, and held Gally's hand, watching him stand up to his full height.

"Just let me be useful," Gally frowned but smiled at him, before his eyes landed on the medium-sized crate, nodding toward it.

"Know what's in it?" (M/n) hummed and bent over to pick it up, gently swaying it side to side, hearing small thumps inside.

"I can guess," he answered with a chuckle and a shrug, taking a few steps back toward the Deadheads, "I'll check and see what I got."

Gally hummed and nodded in agreement, taking large steps toward the rest of the boxes and crates that still had stuff that needed to be stored away, "Do you mind if I catch up to you later?"

(M/n) smiled before yelling his response when Gally got farther away, "Not at all, big guy!"

//////

Bark happily followed him as he made his way to his tree, going up a few steps and placing the crate on the balcony, before looking down a Bark, sighing with a grin on his face.

"Wanna come up, boy?" Bark wagged his tail, but simply laid down on the dirt, getting comfortable under the shade of the tree, (M/n) understood him and smiled as he made his way up the ladder, walking into this cozy room.

He sat down on the floor after getting the crate in the middle of the room. He tried to hold back his smile at the thought of getting that camera he asked for, but he knew better than to get excited about something he didn't even know if he was gonna get. Reaching his hand to the lid, he opened it, greeted by a paper on the very top, he grabbed it and read the neat handwriting on the white sheet.

"The Polaroid camera will come to you next Box day, (M/n), enjoy your stuff," he whispered the words before looking back inside the crate. Everything was pretty much on one side of it, seeing as the roll of fabric took most of it. A plain white cardboard box with a small WCKD label was the first thing he grabbed, and he knew there were pens and pencils inside it, so he tried not to shake it too much or too hard. Briefly checking a smaller package, he saw that it was a sewing kit, kept in a wooden box. Next was the journal, same words printed on the hardcover.

Everything had a WCKD label which he didn't really mind, but it made him feel... Rather angry, and he had no idea why, so he decided to shake the thought away, no one knew who was the person responsible for sending them out into this place, and he doubted they'll ever know. Unless...

Sighing, he slowly placed everything on his side, grabbing the transparent bag that contained a collar with a tag that read Bark, and a leash that was half chain, half fabric. He left those by the door, so he wouldn't forget to put the collar around Bark's neck.

Then, he took out two aluminum bags, he opened the ziplock of one and he felt the strong scent of coffee. He sighed at the nice smell and closed the bag again, opening the next one. It was... Candy!

He grabbed one and took it out of the plain wrapper, plopping it in his mouth, humming at the taste that brought faded memories with it. But nothing in particular.

(E/c) eyes scanned over the books at the bottom, picking them up one by one, and examining the covers of them. There was a cooking book, so he was gonna share it with Fry, and one about first aid and some other medical stuff, especially to treat big wounds or illnesses, it wasn't much but it was something, the rest were what he recognized as novels, making up six books in total.

He looked at the stuff around him and decided to place the journal and box with pens and pencils back in the crate. He had barely shifted his sitting position to kneel on the floor when he heard Bark's barking.

"Hey, boy, it's just me," Gally's voice made him chuckle and completely stand up, picking up the candy bag, the coffee and taking the collar out of its bag, before heading out, seeing Gally and Bark in the same situation as early in the morning, and he shook his head with a small chuckle.

"Bark, be good to Gally, he's been good to me so far," he said to the dog, who had turned to look at him at the sound of his name, "Come here, this is for you," he stepped down the ladder and handed the bags in his hands to Gally, before kneeling on the dirt.

Bark sat in front of him, his tongue hanging out as he breathed rapidly, (M/n) gave him a kiss on his nose when he swore he saw him smiling at him, his tail thumping on the dirt. He opened the collar and slowly wrapped it around Bark's neck, feeling Gally's stare on him as he fixed the collar so the nametag shone under his chin and right above his chest, realizing Bark's proud stance.

"Good boy," he ruffled his ears and stood up, keeping his hand on his soft fur, petting him as he looked up at Gally, "You mind helping me build a bookshelf tomorrow?"

Blinking a few times, Gally ended up nodding a few times rather rapidly with a smile. He almost looked happy at the thought of spending more time together.

And (M/n) almost couldn't ignore how his heart started beating faster at the thought of Gally enjoying his company.

//////

Finding Fry rather quickly, he handed him the candy and coffee bags, telling him to keep them as hidden as possible, even if (M/n) wanted to share with the others, he didn't want them to eat all the candy within a day, even if he had given a few to Gally just so he could keep them for another time. He mentioned the cookbook he got and promised to share it, soon spotting Clint and mentioning the first aid and medical attention book he got as well.

By dinner time, Gally was fully engrossed in sketching, planning a nice, sturdy, and big enough bookshelf for the greenie. He was nose deep in his journal, bending forward, holding his head up with his left arm as a deep frown adorned his adorably freckle-dotted face.

(M/n) wondered what it was and why it was happening now, but he kept thinking of Gally as cute and nice, continuously catching himself off guard by these off thoughts, well, it wasn't as if he disagreed with those, after all, Gally could be... Adorable. Sometimes. Like right now, watching him focused for a few moments before moving his hand to the edge of the page for a couple of minutes, soon shaking his head as he went back to planning.

And Gally was feeling a little confused. One minute, he was dead focused on his bookshelf design, only to soon realize that he was sketching something completely different. He had seen how many doodles of (M/n) littered the pages of his journal. He had never been too much into drawing people, he liked getting a landscape of his surroundings, or simply drawing anything he saw in his dreams, which wasn't too pretty.

He was usually kept in something that contained water, surrounded by blurry faces and bright lights. Gally preferred sketching the outdoors a lot more, and yet, he couldn't stop drawing the greenie. He wondered why, but decided to ignore the nagging in the back of his mind telling him he knew why.

Especially when he was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling and sighing, wondering how the shuck has a full week gone past already?

//////

(M/n) walked into the kitchen to grab some cool water from the fridge when he spotted the exact person he was looking for. Alby seemed to have come out of the med room, a bandage wrapping around his forearm, right before his elbow.

"Hey, Alby?" The Leader of the Glade looked up while fixing the sleeve of his shirt down the length of his arm.

"Need something, greenie?" (M/n) blinked a few times, momentarily forgetting what he wanted to ask, before he chuckled to himself and nodded, opening the fridge to fetch a water bottle.

"I wanted to ask if there was any other job I still have to try," Alby frowned for a few seconds, most likely thinking, and (M/n) took a few gulps of water and closing the cap again, Gally probably needed some as well so he was gonna take it back to his treehouse.

"Well uh... The Brick-nicks work with the Builders, surely you've met Dmitri already," humming and nodding in agreement, (M/n) turned around, heading back toward Gally, and Alby followed him, judging by the few drops of blood on his clothes, he assumed Alby had been helping the Slicers, "Doubt you wanna go near the Sloppers," (M/n) made an expression of disgust, laughing about it when Alby chuckled at his reaction, "Then... You have the Runners, you've helped around plenty already, greenie."

Runners... His eyes looked toward the Maze Doors, I would have to ask Minho about that.

"Well, thank you, Alby," he added as they split ways, receiving a 'no problem' from him.

He jogged his way back to Gally and Bark, who had been spending more time together for the past two days. They were done building the bookshelf in less than two hours when they started building it, but those two had been around (M/n) for most of the day. Why? He had no idea, but he wasn't complaining, the company was nice.

"Think fast!" He called out before tossing the water bottle up and forward toward Gally, who had jumped in place and turned to look at him from his spot on the dirt, reaching his hand up to grab the bottle, "Nice catch, big guy," Gally's green eyes observed him as he sat down next to them, Bark immediately moving to lay in between his legs, asking for some of his love.

"Yeah, would've hit me in the head otherwise, (M/n)," Gally responded with fake sarcasm as he took the cap off and took a few gulps of the cool liquid as well, "Well, what we doin' now?"

(M/n) paused to think for a little bit. They had been doing a sort of "training" whenever they had free time and didn't have jobs to do, and Bark was the one supervising those training sessions, which yes, was really cute to watch. He frowned upon his realization...

When, exactly, had he and Gally become such good friends? He almost couldn't understand how it happened, but it was like he knew why. Somehow they balanced each other out, in a way neither of them could comprehend.

But finding themselves sitting in such comfortable silence wasn't so bad.

(M/n) groaned and leaned back further to lay on the dirt, Bark shifting around to lay his upper body on his stomach, his (e/c) eyes squinting to look at Gally, who had an amused smirk on his face.

"Let's just be lazy... Only for today," Gally shook his head and squirmed until his back was pressed to the tree next to him, facing toward (M/n) instead of away. Gally's legs dropped on top of his, his hand reaching for his sketchbook, inevitably catching (M/n)'s attention, "What's that?"

Of course he knew what it was for, Mikah and Doug had told him, but mostly said that it was important for Gally and no one could touch it.

Gally opened his sketchbook, his pencil in his hand and he looked at (M/n) with a grin.

"Helps me think and get rid of my stress, why?" All he did in response was shrug, his hand absentmindedly petting Bark's soft fur.

"You seem really attached to it... Makes me wonder what's in it," he whispered, his eyelids closing slowly, the physical exhaustion catching up to his body, "Imma... Take a nap," Gally nodded while keeping his sight on (M/n), watching how he eventually fell asleep under the shade of the trees, a little bit of sunshine coming through the leaves, and Gally couldn't help but sigh at the sight.

His hand gripped the pencil tighter and looked down at the blank page in front of him, moving his wrist with short and precise movements, looking up at (M/n) every few seconds, making sure he portrayed every detail he could see on his face.

The amount of doodles and full sketches he had of (M/n) would've made him feel embarrassed, but this wouldn't be the first time he draws someone from the Glade... Although, he is the first one he can't stop thinking about, the one he keeps missing, and the one that continues to find his way on the pages of his sketchbook.

Gally was confused and conflicted about what he was feeling, and he had no one to talk to.

But, perhaps... He might.

There was one person that could possibly help him out, but that may be a little... Awkward.

//////

The next day, while (M/n) ran off to help the Slicers, Gally approached Newt after lunch, asking him if they could talk in private in the Gathering room.

Confused, Newt accepted and followed Gally there, realizing his body language. He was taking deep breaths and sighing rather often, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides before grabbing onto his pants, twisting the fabric of it in his fists to dry the sweat off, a poor attempt at hiding how nervous he felt.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Newt frowned at the sight of a nervous and unsure Gally.

"What's wrong?" Watching Gally flinch didn't help, he was more confused than before and slightly concerned now, "Gally? Are you okay?"

He took a few steps forward, placing his hands on the taller male's shoulders, trying to make eye contact with him, but failing.

"I think..." He started, his voice shaky and breathy, as if he was exerting himself to talk, "I think I l-like (M/n)..."

Well, Newt wasn't ready to hear that. What was he supposed to say or do now?

How was he gonna help Gally? How does one help the person they once loved?

#gally x reader #gally x y/n #gally x male reader #the maze runner x male reader #the maze runner #the maze runner x reader #tmr gally #gally the maze runner #ftm reader #trans reader #trans #will poulter x reader #will poulter #will poulter fanfiction

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littleskeletonprincessss · 1 month

Text

I love you - Ryan Magee x Reader

A/N I'm sorry i'm so bad at endings.

He laid there, staring at the ceiling fan.

Normally, the rhythmic spinning would calm his mind enough that he would be able to fall asleep. But tonight, his mind wasn't running 75 miles a minute with millions of little video and skit ideas that'd he'd need to remember to bring up to Matt tomorrow. No, tonight, his mind could only focus on one thing.

Her.

He glanced to his left at the empty space next to him.

She'd got to work two mornings ago, after they'd both gone to bed angry after a fight, and by the end of the first day he'd received a single text.

'Staying w/friend 4 a while.'

She wasn't one to use abbreviations when texting so he knew she was still upset and purposely keeping it short.

There hadn't been any contact since.

He turned his head back to the fan with a heavy sigh. They'd been fighting a lot lately. When they first started dating, arguments - if you could even call them that - would end in laughter and the occasional make out after realizing how stupid they were being. Now, fights would start at the drop of a passive comment about the other not starting the dishwasher, or putting the laundry on to dry. And the more often they fought, the more serious things they'd suppressed feelings about would come to a head. He'd shown up late to dinner one too many times. She didn't show enough support for his career. Eventually it felt like the only thing they really had left was sex, but neither of them wanted to address it.

That wasn't true for him though. He loved her with all his heart and he knew a long time ago that there wouldn't be another girl for him, she was the one he wanted to spend forever with.

He pressed his palms into his eyes once he realized he had started to cry. He couldn't lose her, or if he did, not without trying.

Grabbing his phone off his nightstand he pulled up her contact. The picture of her smiling face looked back at him, the same smile that made all his bad days better. He saw his lips pressed against her cheek, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist from behind as she took the picture. It was taken on their last anniversary, when he'd taken her on her dream trip to Italy. Back when he was a better boyfriend.

It hurt to swallow as his thumb hovered over the message icon. What if she didn't want to talk to him? What if he'd been blocked? Letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding he started a new message.

'Can we talk?'

Send. He put the phone down and turned on his side facing her half of the bed, hugging her pillow tight to his chest where she should have been, and closed his eyes, inhaling the fading scent of her, trying to calm himself down.

The phone vibrated quietly against the blankets but it may as well have been a gunshot in his ears. Heart pounding and hands shaking, he looked at the screen.

'Coffee?'

--------------

Ryan stood in front of the bathroom mirror after already spending too long picking an outfit for today.

It was 11:30 and they had made plans to meet at their favorite coffee spot at noon.

He pulled his hair back in a tight bun, the way she liked, and looked at his reflection. He spent a little more time this morning, making sure he looked the best he could. She always told him that she didn't care what he looked like, that she loved him for who he was, but she deserved someone who looked as good as she always did.

Zipping up his jacket, he walked out of the bathroom into his room to grab his phone. Lego laid on her side of the bed, whining.

"I know buddy," Ryan said, sitting next to him and scratching him behind the ears. "I miss her too."

A small PING pulled Ryan's attention away from the dog.

'I'm here. I'll order.'

Ryan stood and walked out the door, grabbing his keys from their place on the hook that she'd insisted on buying, locking it behind him and heading downstairs.

---

Pulling open the heavy cafe door, Ryan stepped inside, thinking back to the memories they'd shared here.

Their first date, he'd made dinner reservations at an outdoor restaurant without checking the weather forecast and they'd ended up wet and freezing. The cafe across the street was quiet when they ran in, the bell over the door ringing to signal their arrival. Picking a corner table next to a big window, fireplace not far away, they sat and talked to get to know each other. The fire drying their clothes, and their drinks warming their insides - black coffee for him and apple cider for her - they stayed until closing, neither wanting the night to end.

The time he asked her to officially be his. He smiled as he remember how she'd laughed, saying she already thought she was.

The first time they said 'I love you'. It wasn't even a date, exactly. They were just hanging out and when she caught him staring, she asked what was wrong. Without thinking, he'd blurted the words, eyes going wide as dinner plates when he realized. She flashed him that perfect smile again and said she loved him too.

So many good memories, he prayed that today wouldn't end in a bad one that would erase them all.

Glancing around, he found her sitting at their table in the corner, warm by the fireplace. She looks perfect he though, taking her in. Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and her face looked so perfect that he wouldn't think she was real had he not known her. She was wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of leggings, his favorite outfit on her, though he'd never told her that.

He stepped toward the table, slowly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere she gave off.

"Hey."

Her head turned to glance at him and her eyes nearly took his breath away, the way they always did.

"Ryan, hey."

She stood up and after a moment they hugged each other awkwardly, not nearly as long or as tight as he needed.

"I um, I got you a coffee. I hope that's okay." She said, sitting back down and motioning towards the steaming mug.

"Yeah, that's great. Thank you." he said, sitting across from her. "You uh, you look good - beautiful."

"Thank you." She blushed. "You don't look bad yourself."

He half smiled. He was glad they were talking, but he also knew it wasn't their normal.

They sat in an awkward silence for a moment.

"Ryan I--"

"I miss you." He interrupeted, without meaning to. "So much. I'm sorry we've been fighting so much lately." He grabbed her hand. He knew it was sudden, he didn't care, he just needed her to know.

"Ryan, I miss you too." She whispered.

"I hope you know that I don't mean to miss dates, or show up late to dinner. Nothing is more important to me than you and I promise I'm going to try harder to be there on time and I love you so much and--"

"Ry. Ryan, calm down." She placed her soft hand on his cheek, tucking a loose piece of hair behind his ear as she stopped his rambling. "I love you too, Ryan."

Those words alone lifted a weight off his chest, and he was finally able to breathe again.

"I'm sorry that I haven't been as supportive as I could be when it comes to your career. I really am proud of you, and Matt too, for working so hard to be successful with your channel and your podcast."

Ryan smiled, then wiped his eye, stopping it from tearing up.

"Come back home. Please." he begged, intertwining their fingers.

"I don't know, Ryan. I miss you, and I miss Lego for sure. But are you sure it's a good idea? What if we just go back to fighting all the time? I know we both want to be better but we get busy and it gets harder. What if we decide that we don't want to deal with it all anymore and we just...end?" She was the one rambling now, and the more she spoke the faster she went, tears misting her eyes.

"Hey, hey. Calm down." Ryan stood up to sit next to her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She buried her head in his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck, like she was scared to let go.

"Listen to me. I am never going to want to end anything with you. I love you too fuckin' much to do that. If you don't want to come back to the apartment right now, that's fine. I'll understand. But please, come back to me? I can't stand not seeing you or talking to you everyday. You're my best friend and these last couple days have been complete hell without you." Pulling back he kissed her forehead and wiped tears from her cheeks.

"Maybe...maybe we can go back to the apartment and watch a movie or something?" She sniffled, wiping her eyes with a napkin.

"I'd love that." Ryan smiled kissing her forehead again.

----------------------------------

The walk back to Ryan's apartment was a complete 180 from the heavy feeling at the cafe. They spent the trip laugh and joking around, the rockiness in their relationship never coming up.

The only stop they made was a pizza place around the corner for dinner before finally reaching his front door where Lego barreled down the hall, jumping on her and assaulting her with kisses.

"Okay, Okay Lego! I missed you too buddy! Who's a good puppy?" She laughed, bending down to hug him. It was one of Ryan's favorite sights to see her with Lego, loving him as much as Ryan did.

"Alright buddy, come on." Ryan set the pizzas on the counter, leading Lego over to his bed and giving him a treat before bringing the pizza's into the living room and setting them on the coffee table.

Handing her the remote, Ryan took a slice of pizza, sitting back against the cushions and throwing his arm across the back. She scrolled through until settling on a movie, leaving grabbing her own slice and leaning back.

Ryan wasn't sure if she was aware of it, or if it was his own mind playing tricks on him, but she seemed to scoot ever so slightly closer to his side. Smiling to himself, he grabbed another slice and turned his attention to the screen.

----------

A few movies later she grabbed one of his controllers, switching to Mario Kart.

"Want to play?" she offered, handing him the other controller. "I'll let you win."

"Fuck you, you will. I'll let you win if anything. Ryan responded, taking the controller and entering the game.

-----------

A few hours later they looked at the time.

"Wow, I've been here for while. Sorry, I didn't mean to stay this long." she yawned, stretching her back.

"No, don't worry about it."

"I should probably go." she sighs, standing up and starting to gather her things.

"Oh. Yeah, okay." He stands, following her to the door.

"Thanks, Ryan. Today was great."

"Yeah, it was." he says, biting the inside of his cheek as she puts her hand on the doorknob.

"I'll see you." she says, opening the door.

"You don't have to leave." Ryan blurts.

"Ryan?"

"I mean, if you want to, I won't stop you. I told you that you didn't have to come home yet, and I'll stick to that. But you don't have to leave, if you don't want to. I mean-" He rubs his mouth, stopping himself from rambling again.

"Actually...I'd love to stay, if you're okay with it." She grins, shutting the door.

Walking to the bedroom, she opens his closet grabbing a tank top to change in to and lies on her side of the bed while Ryan pulls off his gym shorts, sliding next to her and wrapping his arm around her waist out of habit.

"Ry?"

"Oh, fuck. Sorry." he apologizes, pulling his arm back.

"No, Ry-" she turns over to face him. "I love you." she states, meeting his lips with her own for a short but meaningful kiss.

Turning back, Ryan responded with his own 'I love you', replacing his arm and burying his face into the back of her neck, nuzzling her as they both nodded off to sleep.

------------------

Ryan woke a few hours later, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dark.

Had it all been a dream?

He looked to his side and found her slightly curled up, snoring softly.

He smiles, leaning down to kiss her shoulder, seeing her tattoo and thinking back to when she'd first showed him.

-------------

She walked in to the apartment one day standing in front of him and simply saying "I have a surprise for you."

Ryan was surprised- it wasn't his birthday or their anniversary - and his curiosity only grew as she started pulling off her shirt.

"What are you-" he smirked, turning off the TV.

"Shut the hell up. Just look." She said, sitting on the couch and turning her back to him.

Noticing the bandage on her shoulder he was only slightly worried as he pulled up the corner to see what it was hiding.

---------------

It was his name. Just 'Ryan' with a dainty heart at the end.

He looked at it now and knew that they wouldn't end. He loved her an almost impossible amount and, for some reason, she felt the same way. They'd have their struggles, but that made it worth fighting for, in the end.

Kissing her tattoo gently, he whispered in her ear, telling her once again, even in her sleep.

"I love you, so much."

#ryan magee #ryan magee imagines #ryan magee x reader #ryanmagee #supermega #supermega imagines

7 notes · View notes

supernaturalkickparty · 2 years

Text

Jim posted this a while ago. It's from Amerie's mother. Her funeral was on Monday if I'm not mistaken.

Written by Amerie Jo Garza's (Uvalde victim) mom:

"The chicken soup in her thermos stayed hot all day while her body grew cold.

She never had a chance to eat the baloney and cheese sandwich. I got up 10 minutes early to cut the crust off a sandwich that will never be eaten.

Should I call and cancel her dental appointment next Wednesday? Will the office automatically know?

Should I still take her brother to the appointment since I already took the day off work? Last time Carlos had one cavity and Amerie asked him what having a cavity feels like.

She will never experience having a cavity.

She will never experience having a cavity filled.

The cavities in her body now are from bullets, and they can never be filled.

What if she had asked to use the bathroom in the hall a few minutes prior to the gunman entering the room, locking the door, and slaughtering all inside?

Was she one of the first kids in the room to die or one of the last?

These are the things they don’t tell us.

Which of her friends did she see die before her?

Hannah?

Emily?

Both?

Did their blood and brains splatter across her Girl Scout uniform?

She just earned a Fire Safety patch.

What if it got ruined?

There are no patches for school shootings.

Was she practicing writing GIRAFFE the moment he walked in her classroom, barricaded the door and opened fire?

She keeps forgetting the silent “e” at the end.

We studied this past weekend, and now she doesn’t need to take the spelling test on Friday.

None of them will take the spelling test on Friday.

There will be no spelling test on Friday.

Because there is no one to give it.

And no one to take it.

These are the things I will never know:

I will never know at what age she would have started her period.

I will never know if she had wisdom teeth.

(Or if they would have come in crooked.)

I will never know who she spoke to last. Was it the teacher? Was it her table partner, George? She says George is always talking, even during silent reading.

Did she even scream?

She screamed the lyrics to We Don’t Talk About Bruno at 7:58 AM as she hopped out of my car in the circle drive.

She always sings the Dolores part, her sister sings Mirabel and I’m Bruno.

“And I wanted you to know that your bro loves you so

Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it goooooo……..”

Did the killer ever see Encanto?

Could we have sat in the same row of seats, on the same day, munching popcorn?

What if Amerie brushed past him in the aisle? Did she politely say, “Excuse me,” to the boy who would someday blow her eye sockets apart?

Was he chomping on bubble gum as he destroyed them all?

If so, what flavor?

Cinnamon?

Wintergreen?

Was the radio on as he drove to massacre them? Or did he drive in silence?

Was the sun in his eyes as he got out of the car in the parking lot?

Did his pockets hold sunglasses or just ammunition?

These are the things I will never know.

There is laundry in the dryer that is Amerie’s.

Clothes I never need to fold again.

Clothes that are right now warmer than her body.

How will I ever be able to take them out of the dryer and where will I put them if not back in her dresser?

I can never wash clothes in that dryer again.

It will stand silent; a tomb for her pajamas and knee socks.

Her cousin’s graduation party is next month and I already signed her name in the card. Should I cross it out?

That will be the last card I ever sign her name to.

The dog will live longer than she will.

The dog will be 12 next month and she will be eternally 10.

What will the school do with her backpack?

It was brand new this year and she attached her collection of keychains like cherished trophies to its zipper.

A beaded 4 leaf clover she made on St. Patty’s Day.

A red heart from a Walk-a-Thon.

A neon ice cream cone from her friend’s birthday party.

Now there will be no more keychains to attach.

No more trophies.

Surely they can’t throw it out?

Would they throw them all out?

19 backpacks, full of stickered assignments and rainboots, all taken to the dumpster behind the school?

Is there even a dumpster big enough to contain all that life?

These are the things someone else knows:

Did the Outback Oasis salesperson hesitate as they slid him 375 rounds of ammunition?

not my problem my kids are grown and out of school

Or I don’t have kids, so I don’t have to worry about their skulls getting blown across the naptime mat

Or fingers crossed there’s a good guy with an equally powerful gun that will stop this gun if needed

Did they sense any danger or were they more focused on picking that morning’s Raisin Bran out of their teeth?

My Nana used to say, “Pay attention to what whispers, and you won’t have to when it starts screaming.”

But now I know there is a more deafening sound than children screaming.

More horrific even, than automatic rifles on a Tuesday morning.

I beg the world:

Pay attention to what’s screaming today, or be forced to endure the silence that follows."

#uvalde texas #uvalde

108 notes · View notes

soberscientistlife · 2 years

Text

Written by one of the Uvalde victims moms:

"The chicken soup in her thermos stayed hot all day while her body grew cold.

She never had a chance to eat the baloney and cheese sandwich. I got up 10 minutes early to cut the crust off a sandwich that will never be eaten.

Should I call and cancel her dental appointment next Wednesday? Will the office automatically know?

Should I still take her brother to the appointment since I already took the day off work? Last time Carlos had one cavity and Amerie asked him what having a cavity feels like.

She will never experience having a cavity.

She will never experience having a cavity filled.

The cavities in her body now are from bullets, and they can never be filled.

What if she had asked to use the bathroom in the hall a few minutes prior to the gunman entering the room, locking the door, and slaughtering all inside?

Was she one of the first kids in the room to die or one of the last?

These are the things they don’t tell us.

Which of her friends did she see die before her?

Hannah?

Emily?

Both?

Did their blood and brains splatter across her Girl Scout uniform?

She just earned a Fire Safety patch.

What if it got ruined?

There are no patches for school shootings.

Was she practicing writing GIRAFFE the moment he walked in her classroom, barricaded the door and opened fire?

She keeps forgetting the silent “e” at the end.

We studied this past weekend, and now she doesn’t need to take the spelling test on Friday.

None of them will take the spelling test on Friday.

There will be no spelling test on Friday.

Because there is no one to give it.

And no one to take it.

These are the things I will never know:

I will never know at what age she would have started her period.

I will never know if she had wisdom teeth.

(Or if they would have come in crooked.)

I will never know who she spoke to last. Was it the teacher? Was it her table partner, George? She says George is always talking, even during silent reading.

Did she even scream?

She screamed the lyrics to We Don’t Talk About Bruno at 7:58 AM as she hopped out of my car in the circle drive.

She always sings the Dolores part, her sister sings Mirabel and I’m Bruno.

“And I wanted you to know that your bro loves you so

Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it goooooo……..”

Did the killer ever see Encanto?

Could we have sat in the same row of seats, on the same day, munching popcorn?

What if Amerie brushed past him in the aisle? Did she politely say, “Excuse me,” to the boy who would someday blow her eye sockets apart?

Was he chomping on bubble gum as he destroyed them all?

If so, what flavor?

Cinnamon?

Wintergreen?

Was the radio on as he drove to massacre them? Or did he drive in silence?

Was the sun in his eyes as he got out of the car in the parking lot?

Did his pockets hold sunglasses or just ammunition?

These are the things I will never know.

There is laundry in the dryer that is Amerie’s.

Clothes I never need to fold again.

Clothes that are right now warmer than her body.

How will I ever be able to take them out of the dryer and where will I put them if not back in her dresser?

I can never wash clothes in that dryer again.

It will stand silent; a tomb for her pajamas and knee socks.

Her cousin’s graduation party is next month and I already signed her name in the card. Should I cross it out?

That will be the last card I ever sign her name to.

The dog will live longer than she will.

The dog will be 12 next month and she will be eternally 10.

What will the school do with her backpack?

It was brand new this year and she attached her collection of keychains like cherished trophies to its zipper.

A beaded 4 leaf clover she made on St. Patty’s Day.

A red heart from a Walk-a-Thon.

A neon ice cream cone from her friend’s birthday party.

Now there will be no more keychains to attach.

No more trophies.

Surely they can’t throw it out?

Would they throw them all out?

19 backpacks, full of stickered assignments and rainboots, all taken to the dumpster behind the school?

Is there even a dumpster big enough to contain all that life?

These are the things someone else knows:

Did the Outback Oasis salesperson hesitate as they slid him 375 rounds of ammunition?

not my problem my kids are grown and out of school

Or I don’t have kids, so I don’t have to worry about their skulls getting blown across the naptime mat

Or fingers crossed there’s a good guy with an equally powerful gun that will stop this gun if needed

Did they sense any danger or were they more focused on picking that morning’s Raisin Bran out of their teeth?

My Nana used to say, “Pay attention to what whispers, and you won’t have to when it starts screaming.”

But now I know there is a more deafening sound than children screaming.

More horrific even, than automatic rifles on a Tuesday morning.

I beg the world:

Pay attention to what’s screaming today, or be forced to endure the silence that follows."

OMG 💔💔💔💔

124 notes · View notes

pbandjesse · 8 months

Text

I am so tired. Everyone thought I was taking off from the market today but I did not! I was there and I spent more money then I made but it was a beautiful day and I'm glad I was there. And I got a lot done today.

I slept alright. When I got home James helped bring everything upstairs. And I hate to go to sleep with a big mess but there was only so much we could do. They would sort the laundry and at least get things into the correct rooms. But it was just a lot to get done. I would save that for today.

We went to sleep and I woke up at one point to use the bathroom and got very woozy and almost fell over. I really wanted a mournful of peanut butter but instead was able to make it back to bed and fell asleep.

I woke up after 7 and got ready pretty quick. My hair was looking really nice today. Like healthy nice. I have been liking it after I wash it and it's really doing wonders for me. Especially as we get into winter and the air gets dryer I am trying to focus on hair health so it can grow longer. Trying not to use much heat and being gentle. A little self care project.

We went to McDonald's and got 3 hash browns to share and then James helped me get set up for the day. Stanley had to head out so James couldn't lollygag outside with me. They don't often anyway but I still want them too. After I got set up we got our bakery stuff from Ginny early. And I would go back and pay for it because James had to run back inside.

I was a little fidgety at first today and wanted to walk around and see everyone. Lock gave me a fancy tomato for free. I got my guacamole and figured out why it's been weird. It's a different kind of avacado! I don't know enough Spanish to ask the nice man why but I saw them and they are lime color and longer. I still like the guac but Google says they don't have as much oil and that's why they are sort of thinner. Not as whippable. Still good but not as amazing as it was. I am still going to eat so much of it.

I also got berries and I got some figs. I got the figs for Anne, James's mom, because she loves figs. There is a joke about being waspy in there but I will let you write that yourself. Hopefully we can give her and Tucker those tomorrow. Maybe we'll have dinner with them.

I was happy to see CJ. Callie is just so good at making people flowers and it's super nice to have a friend there. I would make her a friendship bracelet while I was standing there trying to get any sales. It was a slow day for me. But not for the market. We got almost 700 people throughout the morning! That's crazy!

I didn't recognize her at first but Julie from the nursery came through and said hi. I was like hello, I know you but I'm not sure why but I'm not going to say that. And finally she mentioned Becky and I was like ohhh!!! It was because I had never seen her without a mask! She had a baby! He was so cute! And she had two dachshunds! It was nice to see her and she bought one of my sale bears. She said I can't say I haven't sold anything now and it was very sweet.

I only sold $10 bears today. Which is fine. I also sold 4 stickers. I need to get some new stuff for the table. I also need to have James order more sticker designs. I want to do some Halloween, or more likely all the holidays, ones this week I think. Maybe when we drove to my parents on Tuesday.

I did get some knitting done. And I enjoyed the weather. But it was also super windy and so I was a little stressed about things falling over which made me on edge. And then I was cold. Me and Callie went and stood in the sun and I sat in the dog sculpture which was very warm and we learned his name is Sailor which I thought was so cute.

Meril was there too and it was fun talking to her. I told her about Louis Wain and a tattoo I want to get and I made us both cry. And w sent texts to each other from across the market about the people who were very very clearly there for the jazz concert. With their berets and shirts just in their shoulders. And the music was good and wasn't as unbearably loud.

Ann was being bad cop at people because they were putting their cars where they shouldn't or letting there dogs fight or using market tables for eating?? But it was nice chatting with her too. We actually all catty and I come up with reasonable doubt. Like apparently someone didn't come last week because their mother died. But then their mother came with them this week. And I'm like. Maybe they have two mothers, maybe they were in a beautiful lesbian relationship you don't know!! That is basically how all our conversations go. She says something and I make a wild or outrageous explanation.

I was really excited to leave though. I had told James I would get groceries if they wanted me too but I was also super tired. They told me to go rest and they would come home and while they were working on laundry they would get groceries. I appreciated that. And a little after one, and after giving Callie a big hug and telling her to let me know if I could help her move/unpack this week because I love unpacking. She also told me she got her placement for teaching and she's really happy so I'm also really happy for her!!

I went inside to say goodbye to James and then I was out. Getting home was better then yesterday when everyone was driving stupid. But in the other direction towards the museum exit was completely sitting still and there seemed to be a bad accident in the middle of the traffic?? I hope everyone and everything is okay.

I got home and ran into Mr Will outside who gave me many cheek kisses because it's been like two months since I've seen him. He seemed so much healthier then the last time. I wanted to stay and chat but I was also so tired. So I had to say goodbye and come upstairs.

I got up here and I wanted to start cleaning but decided I would sleep as long as I needed, which ended up being until 5, and then would spend as long as was needed to get everything away.

And I fell asleep hard. I slept for almost 3 hours. I really needed it. And when I woke up I got redressed and had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. James was at the store still. And I spent a few minutes waking up and feeling like a person again.

Once I was awake I got into organizing. And would spend the next 3 hours sorting and putting away. I am not done, but at least it's better. Things have spots for now. I want to get some vacuum saver bags for some of our extra pillows and blankets. And I want to get rid of some stuff. But at least for now I have made great progress. And James helped a lot. They sorted my basket of half finished projects and fabrics and put them in the boxes I have gotten for that. And I worked on the closet in the studio. Finally got the cart in there. And I am just really pleased. I also found a better way to keep my extra garment rack and I'm going to use it for all my coats for now. Which frees up the closet even more.

I also started going through my lotions and makeups again. I got rid of a half trash bags worth of lotions and deodorant and makeup. All expired. Or weird smelling. James is going to go through our nail polish at some point this week and I am going to go through the bathroom closet. We just have a lot of half finished things and stuff we aren't using. And it needs to get cleared out. I'm very happy with what we got done though. Even if the work continues.

Around 9 I finally got a shower. And laid down. And now I am ready to get some sleep. James just came in the room and immediately sneezed so loud. Causing a commotion. And I'm sitting here texting stupid stuff to Celia and Jess is telling me about her day. And I feel happy.

Tomorrow I hope to get more organizing done. I also want to make a list of stuff I want to accomplish this week. I want to use my two weeks well. I hope you all have a good Sunday it's also my brother's birthday! He's going to be 30!! I love him very much. Maybe when we go see my parents on Tuesday we can see him for a minute. We will see what happens.

I love you all. Sleep good. Take care of yourself!!

3 notes · View notes

klbmsw · 2 years

Text

Heartbreaking! Written by one of the Uvalde victims moms:

"The chicken soup in her thermos stayed hot all day while her body grew cold.

She never had a chance to eat the baloney and cheese sandwich. I got up 10 minutes early to cut the crust off a sandwich that will never be eaten.

Should I call and cancel her dental appointment next Wednesday? Will the office automatically know?

Should I still take her brother to the appointment since I already took the day off work? Last time Carlos had one cavity and Amerie asked him what having a cavity feels like.

She will never experience having a cavity.

She will never experience having a cavity filled.

The cavities in her body now are from bullets, and they can never be filled.

What if she had asked to use the bathroom in the hall a few minutes prior to the gunman entering the room, locking the door, and slaughtering all inside?

Was she one of the first kids in the room to die or one of the last?

These are the things they don’t tell us.

Which of her friends did she see die before her?

Hannah?

Emily?

Both?

Did their blood and brains splatter across her Girl Scout uniform?

She just earned a Fire Safety patch.

What if it got ruined?

There are no patches for school shootings.

Was she practicing writing GIRAFFE the moment he walked in her classroom, barricaded the door and opened fire?

She keeps forgetting the silent “e” at the end.

We studied this past weekend, and now she doesn’t need to take the spelling test on Friday.

None of them will take the spelling test on Friday.

There will be no spelling test on Friday.

Because there is no one to give it.

And no one to take it.

These are the things I will never know:

I will never know at what age she would have started her period.

I will never know if she had wisdom teeth.

(Or if they would have come in crooked.)

I will never know who she spoke to last. Was it the teacher? Was it her table partner, George? She says George is always talking, even during silent reading.

Did she even scream?

She screamed the lyrics to We Don’t Talk About Bruno at 7:58 AM as she hopped out of my car in the circle drive.

She always sings the Dolores part, her sister sings Mirabel and I’m Bruno.

“And I wanted you to know that your bro loves you so

Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it goooooo……..”

Did the killer ever see Encanto?

Could we have sat in the same row of seats, on the same day, munching popcorn?

What if Amerie brushed past him in the aisle? Did she politely say, “Excuse me,” to the boy who would someday blow her eye sockets apart?

Was he chomping on bubble gum as he destroyed them all?

If so, what flavor?

Cinnamon?

Wintergreen?

Was the radio on as he drove to massacre them? Or did he drive in silence?

Was the sun in his eyes as he got out of the car in the parking lot?

Did his pockets hold sunglasses or just ammunition?

These are the things I will never know.

There is laundry in the dryer that is Amerie’s.

Clothes I never need to fold again.

Clothes that are right now warmer than her body.

How will I ever be able to take them out of the dryer and where will I put them if not back in her dresser?

I can never wash clothes in that dryer again.

It will stand silent; a tomb for her pajamas and knee socks.

Her cousin’s graduation party is next month and I already signed her name in the card. Should I cross it out?

That will be the last card I ever sign her name to.

The dog will live longer than she will.

The dog will be 12 next month and she will be eternally 10.

What will the school do with her backpack?

It was brand new this year and she attached her collection of keychains like cherished trophies to its zipper.

A beaded 4 leaf clover she made on St. Patty’s Day.

A red heart from a Walk-a-Thon.

A neon ice cream cone from her friend’s birthday party.

Now there will be no more keychains to attach.

No more trophies.

Surely they can’t throw it out?

Would they throw them all out?

19 backpacks, full of stickered assignments and rainboots, all taken to the dumpster behind the school?

Is there even a dumpster big enough to contain all that life?

These are the things someone else knows:

Did the Outback Oasis salesperson hesitate as they slid him 375 rounds of ammunition?

not my problem my kids are grown and out of school

Or I don’t have kids, so I don’t have to worry about their skulls getting blown across the naptime mat

Or fingers crossed there’s a good guy with an equally powerful gun that will stop this gun if needed

Did they sense any danger or were they more focused on picking that morning’s Raisin Bran out of their teeth?

My Nana used to say, “Pay attention to what whispers, and you won’t have to when it starts screaming.”

But now I know there is a more deafening sound than children screaming.

More horrific even, than automatic rifles on a Tuesday morning.

I beg the world:

Pay attention to what’s screaming today, or be forced to endure the silence that follows."

10 notes · View notes

piggledy-higgledy · 2 years

Text

Written by one of the Uvalde victims moms:

"The chicken soup in her thermos stayed hot all day while her body grew cold.

She never had a chance to eat the baloney and cheese sandwich. I got up 10 minutes early to cut the crust off a sandwich that will never be eaten.

Should I call and cancel her dental appointment next Wednesday? Will the office automatically know?

Should I still take her brother to the appointment since I already took the day off work? Last time Carlos had one cavity and Amerie asked him what having a cavity feels like.

She will never experience having a cavity.

She will never experience having a cavity filled.

The cavities in her body now are from bullets, and they can never be filled.

What if she had asked to use the bathroom in the hall a few minutes prior to the gunman entering the room, locking the door, and slaughtering all inside?

Was she one of the first kids in the room to die or one of the last?

These are the things they don’t tell us.

Which of her friends did she see die before her?

Hannah?

Emily?

Both?

Did their blood and brains splatter across her Girl Scout uniform?

She just earned a Fire Safety patch.

What if it got ruined?

There are no patches for school shootings.

Was she practicing writing GIRAFFE the moment he walked in her classroom, barricaded the door and opened fire?

She keeps forgetting the silent “e” at the end.

We studied this past weekend, and now she doesn’t need to take the spelling test on Friday.

None of them will take the spelling test on Friday.

There will be no spelling test on Friday.

Because there is no one to give it.

And no one to take it.

These are the things I will never know:

I will never know at what age she would have started her period.

I will never know if she had wisdom teeth.

(Or if they would have come in crooked.)

I will never know who she spoke to last. Was it the teacher? Was it her table partner, George? She says George is always talking, even during silent reading.

Did she even scream?

She screamed the lyrics to We Don’t Talk About Bruno at 7:58 AM as she hopped out of my car in the circle drive.

She always sings the Dolores part, her sister sings Mirabel and I’m Bruno.

“And I wanted you to know that your bro loves you so

Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it goooooo……..”

Did the killer ever see Encanto?

Could we have sat in the same row of seats, on the same day, munching popcorn?

What if Amerie brushed past him in the aisle? Did she politely say, “Excuse me,” to the boy who would someday blow her eye sockets apart?

Was he chomping on bubble gum as he destroyed them all?

If so, what flavor?

Cinnamon?

Wintergreen?

Was the radio on as he drove to massacre them? Or did he drive in silence?

Was the sun in his eyes as he got out of the car in the parking lot?

Did his pockets hold sunglasses or just ammunition?

These are the things I will never know.

There is laundry in the dryer that is Amerie’s.

Clothes I never need to fold again.

Clothes that are right now warmer than her body.

How will I ever be able to take them out of the dryer and where will I put them if not back in her dresser?

I can never wash clothes in that dryer again.

It will stand silent; a tomb for her pajamas and knee socks.

Her cousin’s graduation party is next month and I already signed her name in the card. Should I cross it out?

That will be the last card I ever sign her name to.

The dog will live longer than she will.

The dog will be 12 next month and she will be eternally 10.

What will the school do with her backpack?

It was brand new this year and she attached her collection of keychains like cherished trophies to its zipper.

A beaded 4 leaf clover she made on St. Patty’s Day.

A red heart from a Walk-a-Thon.

A neon ice cream cone from her friend’s birthday party.

Now there will be no more keychains to attach.

No more trophies.

Surely they can’t throw it out?

Would they throw them all out?

19 backpacks, full of stickered assignments and rainboots, all taken to the dumpster behind the school?

Is there even a dumpster big enough to contain all that life?

These are the things someone else knows:

Did the Outback Oasis salesperson hesitate as they slid him 375 rounds of ammunition?

not my problem my kids are grown and out of school

Or I don’t have kids, so I don’t have to worry about their skulls getting blown across the naptime mat

Or fingers crossed there’s a good guy with an equally powerful gun that will stop this gun if needed

Did they sense any danger or were they more focused on picking that morning’s Raisin Bran out of their teeth?

My Nana used to say, “Pay attention to what whispers, and you won’t have to when it starts screaming.”

But now I know there is a more deafening sound than children screaming.

More horrific even, than automatic rifles on a Tuesday morning.

I beg the world:

Pay attention to what’s screaming today, or be forced to endure the silence that follows."

#uvalde #gun shootings #gun control

5 notes · View notes

reading-writing-revolution · 2 years

Text

#Uvalde Massacre

I wanted to post something about the Uvalde massacre upon which Professor Richardson continues to inform us. Which is so important in keeping this from fading to a fleeting memory. I received this from a friend yesterday. Apparently it is circulating but is first time I saw it. A letter from a mother. So…..so wrenching. Talk about a mother’s truth….. we must continue to honor the families…and do what we must to protect our children of the world as we raise them.

From Facebook/ shared with me.

“…written by a mom of one of the Uvalde victims:”

"The chicken soup in her thermos stayed hot all day while her body grew cold.

She never had a chance to eat the baloney and cheese sandwich. I got up 10 minutes early to cut the crust off a sandwich that will never be eaten.

Should I call and cancel her dental appointment next Wednesday? Will the office automatically know?

Should I still take her brother to the appointment since I already took the day off work? Last time Carlos had one cavity and Amerie asked him what having a cavity feels like.

She will never experience having a cavity.

She will never experience having a cavity filled.

The cavities in her body now are from bullets, and they can never be filled.

What if she had asked to use the bathroom in the hall a few minutes prior to the gunman entering the room, locking the door, and slaughtering all inside?

Was she one of the first kids in the room to die or one of the last?

These are the things they don’t tell us.

Which of her friends did she see die before her?

Hannah?

Emily?

Both?

Did their blood and brains splatter across her Girl Scout uniform?

She just earned a Fire Safety patch.

What if it got ruined?

There are no patches for school shootings.

Was she practicing writing GIRAFFE the moment he walked in her classroom, barricaded the door and opened fire?

She keeps forgetting the silent “e” at the end.

We studied this past weekend, and now she doesn’t need to take the spelling test on Friday.

None of them will take the spelling test on Friday.

There will be no spelling test on Friday.

Because there is no one to give it.

And no one to take it.

These are the things I will never know:

I will never know at what age she would have started her period.

I will never know if she had wisdom teeth.

(Or if they would have come in crooked.)

I will never know who she spoke to last. Was it the teacher? Was it her table partner, George? She says George is always talking, even during silent reading.

Did she even scream?

She screamed the lyrics to We Don’t Talk About Bruno at 7:58 AM as she hopped out of my car in the circle drive.

She always sings the Dolores part, her sister sings Mirabel and I’m Bruno.

“And I wanted you to know that your bro loves you so

Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it goooooo……..”

Did the killer ever see Encanto?

Could we have sat in the same row of seats, on the same day, munching popcorn?

What if Amerie brushed past him in the aisle? Did she politely say, “Excuse me,” to the boy who would someday blow her eye sockets apart?

Was he chomping on bubble gum as he destroyed them all?

If so, what flavor?

Cinnamon?

Wintergreen?

Was the radio on as he drove to massacre them? Or did he drive in silence?

Was the sun in his eyes as he got out of the car in the parking lot?

Did his pockets hold sunglasses or just ammunition?

These are the things I will never know.

There is laundry in the dryer that is Amerie’s.

Clothes I never need to fold again.

Clothes that are right now warmer than her body.

How will I ever be able to take them out of the dryer and where will I put them if not back in her dresser?

I can never wash clothes in that dryer again.

It will stand silent; a tomb for her pajamas and knee socks.

Her cousin’s graduation party is next month and I already signed her name in the card. Should I cross it out?

That will be the last card I ever sign her name to.

The dog will live longer than she will.

The dog will be 12 next month and she will be eternally 10.

What will the school do with her backpack?

It was brand new this year and she attached her collection of keychains like cherished trophies to its zipper.

A beaded 4 leaf clover she made on St. Patty’s Day.

A red heart from a Walk-a-Thon.

A neon ice cream cone from her friend’s birthday party.

Now there will be no more keychains to attach.

No more trophies.

Surely they can’t throw it out?

Would they throw them all out?

19 backpacks, full of stickered assignments and rainboots, all taken to the dumpster behind the school?

Is there even a dumpster big enough to contain all that life?

These are the things someone else knows:

Did the Outback Oasis salesperson hesitate as they slid him 375 rounds of ammunition?

not my problem my kids are grown and out of school

Or I don’t have kids, so I don’t have to worry about their skulls getting blown across the naptime mat

Or fingers crossed there’s a good guy with an equally powerful gun that will stop this gun if needed

Did they sense any danger or were they more focused on picking that morning’s Raisin Bran out of their teeth?

My Nana used to say, “Pay attention to what whispers, and you won’t have to when it starts screaming.”

But now I know there is a more deafening sound than children screaming.

More horrific even, than automatic rifles on a Tuesday morning.

I beg the world:

Pay attention to what’s screaming today, or be forced to endure the silence that follows."

May we fill that kind of silence with Light.

Unita!

#uvalde #murder #massacre #uvalde massacre #gun culture #gun control

5 notes · View notes

booksand-glitter · 2 years

Text

Trigger warning. Heartbreaking💔

Written by one of the Uvalde victims moms:

"The chicken soup in her thermos stayed hot all day while her body grew cold.

She never had a chance to eat the baloney and cheese sandwich. I got up 10 minutes early to cut the crust off a sandwich that will never be eaten.

Should I call and cancel her dental appointment next Wednesday? Will the office automatically know?

Should I still take her brother to the appointment since I already took the day off work? Last time Carlos had one cavity and Amerie asked him what having a cavity feels like.

She will never experience having a cavity.

She will never experience having a cavity filled.

The cavities in her body now are from bullets, and they can never be filled.

What if she had asked to use the bathroom in the hall a few minutes prior to the gunman entering the room, locking the door, and slaughtering all inside?

Was she one of the first kids in the room to die or one of the last?

These are the things they don’t tell us.

Which of her friends did she see die before her?

Hannah?

Emily?

Both?

Did their blood and brains splatter across her Girl Scout uniform?

She just earned a Fire Safety patch.

What if it got ruined?

There are no patches for school shootings.

Was she practicing writing GIRAFFE the moment he walked in her classroom, barricaded the door and opened fire?

She keeps forgetting the silent “e” at the end.

We studied this past weekend, and now she doesn’t need to take the spelling test on Friday.

None of them will take the spelling test on Friday.

There will be no spelling test on Friday.

Because there is no one to give it.

And no one to take it.

These are the things I will never know:

I will never know at what age she would have started her period.

I will never know if she had wisdom teeth.

(Or if they would have come in crooked.)

I will never know who she spoke to last. Was it the teacher? Was it her table partner, George? She says George is always talking, even during silent reading.

Did she even scream?

She screamed the lyrics to We Don’t Talk About Bruno at 7:58 AM as she hopped out of my car in the circle drive.

She always sings the Dolores part, her sister sings Mirabel and I’m Bruno.

“And I wanted you to know that your bro loves you so

Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it goooooo……..”

Did the killer ever see Encanto?

Could we have sat in the same row of seats, on the same day, munching popcorn?

What if Amerie brushed past him in the aisle? Did she politely say, “Excuse me,” to the boy who would someday blow her eye sockets apart?

Was he chomping on bubble gum as he destroyed them all?

If so, what flavor?

Cinnamon?

Wintergreen?

Was the radio on as he drove to massacre them? Or did he drive in silence?

Was the sun in his eyes as he got out of the car in the parking lot?

Did his pockets hold sunglasses or just ammunition?

These are the things I will never know.

There is laundry in the dryer that is Amerie’s.

Clothes I never need to fold again.

Clothes that are right now warmer than her body.

How will I ever be able to take them out of the dryer and where will I put them if not back in her dresser?

I can never wash clothes in that dryer again.

It will stand silent; a tomb for her pajamas and knee socks.

Her cousin’s graduation party is next month and I already signed her name in the card. Should I cross it out?

That will be the last card I ever sign her name to.

The dog will live longer than she will.

The dog will be 12 next month and she will be eternally 10.

What will the school do with her backpack?

It was brand new this year and she attached her collection of keychains like cherished trophies to its zipper.

A beaded 4 leaf clover she made on St. Patty’s Day.

A red heart from a Walk-a-Thon.

A neon ice cream cone from her friend’s birthday party.

Now there will be no more keychains to attach.

No more trophies.

Surely they can’t throw it out?

Would they throw them all out?

19 backpacks, full of stickered assignments and rainboots, all taken to the dumpster behind the school?

Is there even a dumpster big enough to contain all that life?

These are the things someone else knows:

Did the Outback Oasis salesperson hesitate as they slid him 375 rounds of ammunition?

not my problem my kids are grown and out of school

Or I don’t have kids, so I don’t have to worry about their skulls getting blown across the naptime mat

Or fingers crossed there’s a good guy with an equally powerful gun that will stop this gun if needed

Did they sense any danger or were they more focused on picking that morning’s Raisin Bran out of their teeth?

My Nana used to say, “Pay attention to what whispers, and you won’t have to when it starts screaming.”

But now I know there is a more deafening sound than children screaming.

More horrific even, than automatic rifles on a Tuesday morning.

I beg the world:

Pay attention to what’s screaming today, or be forced to endure the silence that follows."

#Uvalde #Poetry #Gun violence #America #Reblog #assault weapons ban #Politics #NRA #Children #Usa

5 notes · View notes

madamlaydebug · 2 years

Text

I cried when I read this and you will too. God we have to do something…….Read it. ALL OF IT. Then act.

So unimaginable.

A grieving mother’s words hold so much power. 💔

Written by one of the Uvalde victims moms:

"The chicken soup in her thermos stayed hot all day while her body grew cold.

She never had a chance to eat the baloney and cheese sandwich. I got up 10 minutes early to cut the crust off a sandwich that will never be eaten.

Should I call and cancel her dental appointment next Wednesday? Will the office automatically know?

Should I still take her brother to the appointment since I already took the day off work? Last time Carlos had one cavity and Amerie asked him what having a cavity feels like.

She will never experience having a cavity.

She will never experience having a cavity filled.

The cavities in her body now are from bullets, and they can never be filled.

What if she had asked to use the bathroom in the hall a few minutes prior to the gunman entering the room, locking the door, and slaughtering all inside?

Was she one of the first kids in the room to die or one of the last?

These are the things they don’t tell us.

Which of her friends did she see die before her?

Hannah?

Emily?

Both?

Did their blood and brains splatter across her Girl Scout uniform?

She just earned a Fire Safety patch.

What if it got ruined?

There are no patches for school shootings.

Was she practicing writing GIRAFFE the moment he walked in her classroom, barricaded the door and opened fire?

She keeps forgetting the silent “e” at the end.

We studied this past weekend, and now she doesn’t need to take the spelling test on Friday.

None of them will take the spelling test on Friday.

There will be no spelling test on Friday.

Because there is no one to give it.

And no one to take it.

These are the things I will never know:

I will never know at what age she would have started her period.

I will never know if she had wisdom teeth.

(Or if they would have come in crooked.)

I will never know who she spoke to last. Was it the teacher? Was it her table partner, George? She says George is always talking, even during silent reading.

Did she even scream?

She screamed the lyrics to We Don’t Talk About Bruno at 7:58 AM as she hopped out of my car in the circle drive.

She always sings the Dolores part, her sister sings Mirabel and I’m Bruno.

“And I wanted you to know that your bro loves you so

Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it goooooo……..”

Did the killer ever see Encanto?

Could we have sat in the same row of seats, on the same day, munching popcorn?

What if Amerie brushed past him in the aisle? Did she politely say, “Excuse me,” to the boy who would someday blow her eye sockets apart?

Was he chomping on bubble gum as he destroyed them all?

If so, what flavor?

Cinnamon?

Wintergreen?

Was the radio on as he drove to massacre them? Or did he drive in silence?

Was the sun in his eyes as he got out of the car in the parking lot?

Did his pockets hold sunglasses or just ammunition?

These are the things I will never know.

There is laundry in the dryer that is Amerie’s.

Clothes I never need to fold again.

Clothes that are right now warmer than her body.

How will I ever be able to take them out of the dryer and where will I put them if not back in her dresser?

I can never wash clothes in that dryer again.

It will stand silent; a tomb for her pajamas and knee socks.

Her cousin’s graduation party is next month and I already signed her name in the card. Should I cross it out?

That will be the last card I ever sign her name to.

The dog will live longer than she will.

The dog will be 12 next month and she will be eternally 10.

What will the school do with her backpack?

It was brand new this year and she attached her collection of keychains like cherished trophies to its zipper.

A beaded 4 leaf clover she made on St. Patty’s Day.

A red heart from a Walk-a-Thon.

A neon ice cream cone from her friend’s birthday party.

Now there will be no more keychains to attach.

No more trophies.

Surely they can’t throw it out?

Would they throw them all out?

19 backpacks, full of stickered assignments and rainboots, all taken to the dumpster behind the school?

Is there even a dumpster big enough to contain all that life?

These are the things someone else knows:

Did the Outback Oasis salesperson hesitate as they slid him 375 rounds of ammunition?

not my problem my kids are grown and out of school

Or I don’t have kids, so I don’t have to worry about their skulls getting blown across the naptime mat

Or fingers crossed there’s a good guy with an equally powerful gun that will stop this gun if needed

Did they sense any danger or were they more focused on picking that morning’s Raisin Bran out of their teeth?

My Nana used to say, “Pay attention to what whispers, and you won’t have to when it starts screaming.”

But now I know there is a more deafening sound than children screaming.

More horrific even, than automatic rifles on a Tuesday morning.

I beg the world:

Pay attention to what’s screaming today, or be forced to endure the silence that follows."

4 notes · View notes

skz317cb97 · 1 year

Text

Holy shit why is my life scary!

So last night I was home alone and I had the dogs pinned in the kitchen and my room with the baby gate so they werent wreaking havoc. They will usually whine a little at first and then settle down. Last night they kept standing in the kitchen looking out towards the living room barking like someone was there (Scarlett's hair was even up her hair is NEVER up) So I look, of course, no one there.

Then I think, well, maybe they heard something from outside, so I figured I'd check the cameras (our house is surrounded by cameras, no way in or out without triggering one.) I check the front door first since that's the direction they were barking, nothing, I check the porch camera, nothing, drive way camera, nothing, sideyard, nadda, backyard camera... 'can't access currently being view'. Okay weird, but maybe one of my 2 roommates was looking at it for some reason. I wait a couple minutes try again it pops up and it looks like the side garage door MIGHT be open but it was hard to tell so I thought my eyes may have been playing tricks on me and just blew it off.

Cut to today, my cousin/roommate called me at work and asked if I had been in the backyard. I NEVER go back there like EVER. She proceeds to tell me that not only was the side garage door in fact open, our door down the the basement and out to the back door was unlocked (we lock it religiously when we come back up from the laundry in the basement) AND the backdoor was unlocked and not shut all the way. 😳 110% no way it was ANY of us.

The back camera was acting wonky for her again and then worked but we all decided better to be safe than sorry. They both checked the whole house basement, crawl space and garage there was no one and we ordered padlocks and a security bar for the back door.

End of story yea?

No.

I come home from work, and both roommates are gone. I unlock the door, let the dogs out, when I come back inside, music is playing on the Google home in my cousin's room and the bathroom, pretty loud, like I heard it immediately when I opened the front door. Mind you, I had JUST been in there getting the dogs and heard nothing. Of COURSE when I pulled up my phone was at 1% and DIED so I plugged it in and grabbed my laptop and was calling my cousin on Facebook trying to be quiet as fuck ducked down in the living room.

Finally, when my phone got to 5% I got it turned on and called my cousin to make sure her wife was with her and not at home. Her wife was in fact with her, so then I'm really freaking out. I had her stay on the phone and I checked, no one was there so I have no idea why music was playing! 🤷🏻😳

Anyway how was your day...😅

#skz317cb97 #cal 🖤

0 notes

flutistbyday2020 · 2 years

Text

Written by Amerie Jo Garza's (Uvalde victim) mom:

"The chicken soup in her thermos stayed hot all day while her body grew cold.

She never had a chance to eat the baloney and cheese sandwich. I got up 10 minutes early to cut the crust off a sandwich that will never be eaten.

Should I call and cancel her dental appointment next Wednesday? Will the office automatically know?

Should I still take her brother to the appointment since I already took the day off work? Last time Carlos had one cavity and Amerie asked him what having a cavity feels like.

She will never experience having a cavity.

She will never experience having a cavity filled.

The cavities in her body now are from bullets, and they can never be filled.

What if she had asked to use the bathroom in the hall a few minutes prior to the gunman entering the room, locking the door, and slaughtering all inside?

Was she one of the first kids in the room to die or one of the last?

These are the things they don’t tell us.

Which of her friends did she see die before her?

Hannah?

Emily?

Both?

Did their blood and brains splatter across her Girl Scout uniform?

She just earned a Fire Safety patch.

What if it got ruined?

There are no patches for school shootings.

Was she practicing writing GIRAFFE the moment he walked in her classroom, barricaded the door and opened fire?

She keeps forgetting the silent “e” at the end.

We studied this past weekend, and now she doesn’t need to take the spelling test on Friday.

None of them will take the spelling test on Friday.

There will be no spelling test on Friday.

Because there is no one to give it.

And no one to take it.

These are the things I will never know:

I will never know at what age she would have started her period.

I will never know if she had wisdom teeth.

(Or if they would have come in crooked.)

I will never know who she spoke to last. Was it the teacher? Was it her table partner, George? She says George is always talking, even during silent reading.

Did she even scream?

She screamed the lyrics to We Don’t Talk About Bruno at 7:58 AM as she hopped out of my car in the circle drive.

She always sings the Dolores part, her sister sings Mirabel and I’m Bruno.

“And I wanted you to know that your bro loves you so

Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it goooooo……..”

Did the killer ever see Encanto?

Could we have sat in the same row of seats, on the same day, munching popcorn?

What if Amerie brushed past him in the aisle? Did she politely say, “Excuse me,” to the boy who would someday blow her eye sockets apart?

Was he chomping on bubble gum as he destroyed them all?

If so, what flavor?

Cinnamon?

Wintergreen?

Was the radio on as he drove to massacre them? Or did he drive in silence?

Was the sun in his eyes as he got out of the car in the parking lot?

Did his pockets hold sunglasses or just ammunition?

These are the things I will never know.

There is laundry in the dryer that is Amerie’s.

Clothes I never need to fold again.

Clothes that are right now warmer than her body.

How will I ever be able to take them out of the dryer and where will I put them if not back in her dresser?

I can never wash clothes in that dryer again.

It will stand silent; a tomb for her pajamas and knee socks.

Her cousin’s graduation party is next month and I already signed her name in the card. Should I cross it out?

That will be the last card I ever sign her name to.

The dog will live longer than she will.

The dog will be 12 next month and she will be eternally 10.

What will the school do with her backpack?

It was brand new this year and she attached her collection of keychains like cherished trophies to its zipper.

A beaded 4 leaf clover she made on St. Patty’s Day.

A red heart from a Walk-a-Thon.

A neon ice cream cone from her friend’s birthday party.

Now there will be no more keychains to attach.

No more trophies.

Surely they can’t throw it out?

Would they throw them all out?

19 backpacks, full of stickered assignments and rainboots, all taken to the dumpster behind the school?

Is there even a dumpster big enough to contain all that life?

These are the things someone else knows:

Did the Outback Oasis salesperson hesitate as they slid him 375 rounds of ammunition?

not my problem my kids are grown and out of school

Or I don’t have kids, so I don’t have to worry about their skulls getting blown across the naptime mat

Or fingers crossed there’s a good guy with an equally powerful gun that will stop this gun if needed

Did they sense any danger or were they more focused on picking that morning’s Raisin Bran out of their teeth?

My Nana used to say, “Pay attention to what whispers, and you won’t have to when it starts screaming.”

But now I know there is a more deafening sound than children screaming.

More horrific even, than automatic rifles on a Tuesday morning.

I beg the world:

Pay attention to what’s screaming today, or be forced to endure the silence that follows."

#fuck the usa #fuck the government #the United state’s government is a joke #stop school shootings #stop mass shootings #stop senseless shootings #uvalde

0 notes

tree-whisper · 2 years

Text

From FB:

This is harrowing and should be read by everyone

What can we do to help?

*******************************************

Written by the mom of Amerie Jo Garza, one of the Uvalde victims:

The chicken soup in her thermos stayed hot all day while her body grew cold.

She never had a chance to eat the baloney and cheese sandwich.

I got up 10 minutes early to cut the crust off a sandwich that will never be eaten.

Should I call and cancel her dental appointment next Wednesday? Will the office automatically know? Should I still take her brother to the appointment since I already took the day off work? Last time Carlos had one cavity and Amerie asked him what having a cavity feels like.

She will never experience having a cavity.

She will never experience having a cavity filled.

The cavities in her body now are from bullets, and they can never be filled.

What if she had asked to use the bathroom in the hall a few minutes prior to the gunman entering the room, locking the door, and slaughtering all inside?

Was she one of the first kids in the room to die or one of the last?

These are the things they don’t tell us.

Which of her friends did she see die before her?

Hannah?

Emily?

Both?

Did their blood and brains splatter across her Girl Scout uniform?

She just earned a Fire Safety patch. What if it got ruined?

There are no patches for school shootings.

Was she practicing writing GIRAFFE the moment he walked in her classroom, barricaded the door and opened fire?

She keeps forgetting the silent “e” at the end. We studied this past weekend, and now she doesn’t need to take the spelling test on Friday.

None of them will take the spelling test on Friday.

There will be no spelling test on Friday.

Because there is no one to give it.

And no one to take it.

These are the things I will never know:

I will never know at what age she would have started her period.

I will never know if she had wisdom teeth.

(Or if they would have come in crooked.)

I will never know who she spoke to last. Was it the teacher? Was it her table partner, George? She says George is always talking, even during silent reading.

Did she even scream?

She screamed the lyrics to We Don’t Talk About Bruno at 7:58 AM as she hopped out of my car in the circle drive. She always sings the Dolores part, her sister sings Mirabel and I’m Bruno.

“And I wanted you to know that your bro loves you so

Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it goooooo……..”

Did the killer ever see Encanto?

Could we have sat in the same row of seats, on the same day, munching popcorn?

What if Amerie brushed past him in the aisle? Did she politely say, “Excuse me,” to the boy who would someday blow her eye sockets apart?

Was he chomping on bubble gum as he destroyed them all?

If so, what flavor?

Cinnamon?

Wintergreen?

Was the radio on as he drove to massacre them? Or did he drive in silence?

Was the sun in his eyes as he got out of the car in the parking lot?

Did his pockets hold sunglasses or just ammunition?

These are the things I will never know.

There is laundry in the dryer that is Amerie’s.

Clothes I never need to fold again.

Clothes that are right now warmer than her body.

How will I ever be able to take them out of the dryer and where will I put them if not back in her dresser?

I can never wash clothes in that dryer again.

It will stand silent; a tomb for her pajamas and knee socks.

Her cousin’s graduation party is next month and I already signed

her name in the card. Should I cross it out?

That will be the last card I ever sign her name to.

The dog will live longer than she will.

The dog will be 12 next month and she will be eternally 10.

What will the school do with her backpack?

It was brand new this year and she attached her collection of keychains like cherished trophies to its zipper.

A beaded 4 leaf clover she made on St. Patty’s Day.

A red heart from a Walk-a-Thon.

A neon ice cream cone from her friend’s birthday party.

Now there will be no more keychains to attach.

No more trophies.

Surely they can’t throw it out? Would they throw them all out? 19 backpacks, full of stickered assignments and rainboots, all taken to the dumpster behind the school? Is there even a dumpster big enough to contain all that life?

These are the things someone else knows:

Did the Outback Oasis salesperson hesitate as they slid him 375 rounds of ammunition?

not my problem my kids are grown and out of school

Or I don’t have kids, so I don’t have to worry about their skulls getting blown across the naptime mat

Or fingers crossed there’s a good guy with an equally powerful gun that will stop this gun if needed

Did they sense any danger or were they more focused on picking that morning’s Raisin Bran out of their teeth?

My Nana used to say, “Pay attention to what whispers, and you won’t have to when it starts screaming.”

But now I know there is a more deafening sound than children screaming.

More horrific even, than automatic rifles on a Tuesday morning.

I beg the world:

Pay attention to what’s screaming today, or be forced to endure the silence that follows.

**********************

If this moved you at all, please text ACT to 644-33.

#the needs of the many outweigh the wants of a few #you NEED an AR 15 why?

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faithnfrivolity · 2 years

Text

Written by one of the Uvalde victims moms:

"The chicken soup in her thermos stayed hot all day while her body grew cold.

She never had a chance to eat the baloney and cheese sandwich. I got up 10 minutes early to cut the crust off a sandwich that will never be eaten.

Should I call and cancel her dental appointment next Wednesday? Will the office automatically know?

Should I still take her brother to the appointment since I already took the day off work? Last time Carlos had one cavity and Amerie asked him what having a cavity feels like.

She will never experience having a cavity.

She will never experience having a cavity filled.

The cavities in her body now are from bullets, and they can never be filled.

What if she had asked to use the bathroom in the hall a few minutes prior to the gunman entering the room, locking the door, and slaughtering all inside?

Was she one of the first kids in the room to die or one of the last?

These are the things they don’t tell us.

Which of her friends did she see die before her?

Hannah?

Emily?

Both?

Did their blood and brains splatter across her Girl Scout uniform?

She just earned a Fire Safety patch.

What if it got ruined?

There are no patches for school shootings.

Was she practicing writing GIRAFFE the moment he walked in her classroom, barricaded the door and opened fire?

She keeps forgetting the silent “e” at the end.

We studied this past weekend, and now she doesn’t need to take the spelling test on Friday.

None of them will take the spelling test on Friday.

There will be no spelling test on Friday.

Because there is no one to give it.

And no one to take it.

These are the things I will never know:

I will never know at what age she would have started her period.

I will never know if she had wisdom teeth.

(Or if they would have come in crooked.)

I will never know who she spoke to last. Was it the teacher? Was it her table partner, George? She says George is always talking, even during silent reading.

Did she even scream?

She screamed the lyrics to We Don’t Talk About Bruno at 7:58 AM as she hopped out of my car in the circle drive.

She always sings the Dolores part, her sister sings Mirabel and I’m Bruno.

“And I wanted you to know that your bro loves you so

Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it goooooo……..”

Did the killer ever see Encanto?

Could we have sat in the same row of seats, on the same day, munching popcorn?

What if Amerie brushed past him in the aisle? Did she politely say, “Excuse me,” to the boy who would someday blow her eye sockets apart?

Was he chomping on bubble gum as he destroyed them all?

If so, what flavor?

Cinnamon?

Wintergreen?

Was the radio on as he drove to massacre them? Or did he drive in silence?

Was the sun in his eyes as he got out of the car in the parking lot?

Did his pockets hold sunglasses or just ammunition?

These are the things I will never know.

There is laundry in the dryer that is Amerie’s.

Clothes I never need to fold again.

Clothes that are right now warmer than her body.

How will I ever be able to take them out of the dryer and where will I put them if not back in her dresser?

I can never wash clothes in that dryer again.

It will stand silent; a tomb for her pajamas and knee socks.

Her cousin’s graduation party is next month and I already signed her name in the card. Should I cross it out?

That will be the last card I ever sign her name to.

The dog will live longer than she will.

The dog will be 12 next month and she will be eternally 10.

What will the school do with her backpack?

It was brand new this year and she attached her collection of keychains like cherished trophies to its zipper.

A beaded 4 leaf clover she made on St. Patty’s Day.

A red heart from a Walk-a-Thon.

A neon ice cream cone from her friend’s birthday party.

Now there will be no more keychains to attach.

No more trophies.

Surely they can’t throw it out?

Would they throw them all out?

19 backpacks, full of stickered assignments and rainboots, all taken to the dumpster behind the school?

Is there even a dumpster big enough to contain all that life?

These are the things someone else knows:

Did the Outback Oasis salesperson hesitate as they slid him 375 rounds of ammunition?

not my problem my kids are grown and out of school

Or I don’t have kids, so I don’t have to worry about their skulls getting blown across the naptime mat

Or fingers crossed there’s a good guy with an equally powerful gun that will stop this gun if needed

Did they sense any danger or were they more focused on picking that morning’s Raisin Bran out of their teeth?

My Nana used to say, “Pay attention to what whispers, and you won’t have to when it starts screaming.”

But now I know there is a more deafening sound than children screaming.

More horrific even, than automatic rifles on a Tuesday morning.

I beg the world:

Pay attention to what’s screaming today, or be forced to endure the silence that follows."

0 notes