United.

I had a moment today.  I was sitting at the kitchen table with my beautiful, too smart for her own good, little girl this morning, eating strawberries and toast for breakfast.  I clicked on cnn.com to do a quick check of the news (something I've found myself doing infinitely more since my family and I moved to Firenze 6 months ago), and I saw that one of the victims of the Boston tragedy was an 8 year old boy.  I couldn't help the tears from escaping as I thought of that poor child's family, of the numerous families that are crushed by these events, of the millions of Americans worldwide that are being shocked to the core at yet one more horrific even in which innocent people are harmed.

My sweet daughter asked me why I was crying.  I'll be honest, I don't make it a practice of being upset in front of my child.  I try to make things sunshine and roses as much as possible.  But when she asked me this, I didn't pause.  I said "some people did a very bad thing and they hurt a lot of people."  Do you know what my 3 year old's reply was?  "They shouldn't have done that Mommy.  No one should hurt anyone."  From the mouths of babes.

I studied Political Science in college.  I have a best friend who is a high ranking military man.  I like to think that I have a decent grasp on war, terrorism, and the effects that it has on society. What never occurred to me was how it would feel for people within my home country to attack one another, or for our country to be attacked from within.

I'm of the 9-11 generation.  I went to college in a big city where our bridges were cut off, our subways shut down for our own safety.  We huddled in our homes and cried together for our fellow countrymen.  Wars were fought.  No one won.

We can't get back the people that we lost.  Not the children that were needlessly murdered earlier in the year, not those lost during the marathon, and during the countless other "events" that have happened over the last few months.  Maybe because I am not currently living in my home country I should feel less upset.  Perhaps my world should feel a bit less rocked- but it's not.  I'm an American.  I love my country, my home.  I don't have one state that I feel tied to.  I feel tied to many.

We are moving home in a few months, and there is a part of me, as a mother, as a wife with husband that travels all over the world regularly, that feels like I should be afraid, but all I can think of is this: we shall overcome.  We're Americans dammit.  And one of the quintessential things that Americans do, come hell or high water, is we band the hell together and fight.  We fight for our independence, we fight for the right to run marathons, send our innocent children to school, to go to work without harm, but most of all, at the end of the day- we fight for each other.  United we stand.  So don't let the evil take over.  Send your kids to school, run your marathons, practice your politics and religions how you choose, because that's your right!  The day that we all stop living in the world, and start cowering afraid is the day that "they" win. 

If we can learn anything from the Italians, it's to keep on keepin' on.  Italians don't quit on themselves.  They don't quit on their country.  They've been bombed, sieged, overtaken, broken down, you name it, it's happened to these poor people.  But they cherish their culture, and they keep moving forward.  Isn't that all any of us can do?  Move forward, stay brave, and be strong?

Yes, I know I'm just a young woman who blogs about food and her family, but writing about my family and what we're having for dinner tonight just didn't feel right to me today.