We were driving home from Florida when the news of Columbine came on the radio. It was paralyzing news. And so deeply puzzling and terrifying. Today’s the anniversary of Columbine. My heart goes out to the families who lost their children — all of the families.
I know three women whose sons are in prison, two for having committed murder.
These women are intelligent, kind, wise to the ways of the world, contributors to society. They look to me, each one of them, like they had to have been very good mothers. They seem wholesome and cheerful, exemplary, what anyone would want in a mother.
True, maybe each one was evil behind closed doors. Sure, we can’t tell the whole story by looking at someone. Of course, we can’t judge a book by its cover. And Lord knows, we all have our covers. All of us mothers have our public selves and our private selves. And we are different mothers to different children. The mother of the first born child is a different mother than the mother of the third or fourth or fifth. We age, we change, we modify ourselves and our thinking. In the end…
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