Again.

Columbine High School- Littleton, Colorado- April 20, 1999

Arapahoe High School- Centennial, Colorado- December 13, 2013

There's not really a good way I can start this post. I'm still in a state of shock, of not being able to comprehend what has happened, again.

Today, December 13, started off like any Friday. I enjoyed my very last 2nd off and slept in until 8:30. I went to school for AP Calc, and enjoyed a day of doing nothing. We ate cake, Sierra and I stamped everyone's homework, we looked at the doors that are decorated for the annual contest, Sierra got her Secret Santa present- it was a great and lazy day. Afterwards, we met up with Riley and Mackenzie, did some (not so) Secret Santa exchanging, and caught up, like always. Riley, Sierra, and I went to Pho for lunch, and I went home. I had a choir thing all day- we would rehearse from 1 until 5, then have performances at 6 and 8. I packed a bag with snacks, a water bottle, and my choir dress and shoes, and drove to the church where we'd spend the rest of the day.

I arrived around 12:45, and just a few minutes after arriving, I received a text from Riley that sent chills down my spine; "There was a shooting at Arapahoe?!" Arapahoe High School is a neighboring high school, ten minutes away. One I drive past regularly, one where I know people who attend. One too close to home, again.

I was only three when the shooting at Columbine High School occurred, but learned of the events when I was in third grade. I read the book She Said Yes, a book that has stuck with me for years and years. In 8th grade, I read Nineteen Minutes, an amazing novel by Jodi Picoult based on the events at Columbine. Sophomore year, we had the Rachel's Challenge assembly, which is still my favorite assembly to date. The images, the videos, the 911 calls, they're all things that haunt me.

I was sitting with the other girls in my choir, when suddenly, a flood of tweets, texts, and notifications came in. Our teacher came in, and told us that we were on lock out, meaning no one could leave the room. Only a few students from other schools were in the room- everyone else was stuck at their schools, waiting until they could be released to go to the church. I was texting my siblings, who were at the middle school and high school, checking on them. My sister, at the middle school, was unaware of why they were on lockout, so I filled her in. Kylee, as in shock as me, pointed out how just yesterday we were passing Arapahoe around the same time the shooting occurred, on our way to lunch at Cafe Rio. 24 hours separated us from an ordinary day and a day that would leave us numb. My mom, a teacher in the district who was on lockout with her children, had no information as to why they were on lockout. She was asking me. Classmates began trying to call friends at Arapahoe, as the worry increased. Finally at 1:45, we began to rehearse. Our director promised to tell us when any new information was released, but for now, all we could do is sing.

What I have always loved about singing is how it transports me to a different world. Today, it was oh so much harder to leave the reality that I was in. I could only think about the kids at Arapahoe, and if I was in their situation. "What ifs" filled my head, until finally the music took me away. The harmonies and rhythms consumed me and my stress was slowly alleviated. But soon after, our singing stopped, as our director had news. Two were injured, and one person, the shooter, was dead. A room of nearly 100 students was eerily silent. My body became numb, and as we were dismissed for a break, to collect ourselves, not a word was said. We exited the risers, looking for support from each other.

Our afternoon and evening continued seamlessly, as the rest of the schools showed up after being dismissed. We would check for news, and did the only thing we could do- pray and send positive thoughts. We turned to the music for distraction, for solace. We whipped out two spectacular performances. Seeing my mom after the first performance however, gave me a feeling of peace nothing else could. Sometimes, you just need your mom.

I came home to watch some of the news. The footage of lines of students walk out of the school with their hands above their heads will stick with me forever, as will the pictures of students reuniting with their parents. Learning more and more details of the situation gave me some closure, but did not dismiss the pit in my stomach or answer my question... will this ever happen at my school? After all, Columbine is only 7 miles away, and Arapahoe, 5.

I've been inside of Columbine High School for various events, but each time I'm in it, I just think of that day in April, when lives were forever changed in that building. I've stood in the halls and wondered if something happened right where I was standing. There have been times where I'm at my own school, walking from class to class, minding my own business, but thinking about what I would do if there was a shooting in the hallways of my own school. School is supposed to be a place of safety, one where every child can go without fearing their life. But unfortunately, that is not an option. I have no idea how the students of Arapahoe will be able to go back to school, and be where such horrific things happened. I can only pray for them.

My day has been long and draining- physically and emotionally. But I'm staying close with my family, counting each of my blessings twice, and thinking of the day where this never happens.

xoxo
Hannah

"And He shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain, for the old order of things has passed away." {Revelation 21:4}

"Doesn’t matter how tough we are, trauma always leaves a scar. It follows us home, it changes our lives, trauma messes everybody up, but maybe that’s the point. All the pain and the fear and the crap. Maybe going through all of that is what keeps us moving forward. It’s what pushes us. Maybe we have to get a little messed up, before we can step up."

{Grey's Anatomy}