It seems somewhat superficial to be writing anything about anything that doesn't have something to do with the tragedy that's occurring in Victoria. Yesterday morning my daughter had something of a major meltdown at drop-off, in tears before the first bell because two so-called friends had conspired against her (seems seven is the new 14) and so I missed taking my son into his kindy classroom to advise the teacher that it would be his first day of after school care. And then a good friend came into school, visibly upset and shaken from a bingle she'd been involved in on the way to school. And then I realised that I'd double-booked myself on Friday. All this before 9am.
And then I get into work and had a quick browse through the papers, reading the stories of the horror and of the heartbreak. Stories of families such as the Leadbeaters, mum Buffy filling up buckets from the pool and passing them to dad Mark up on the roof, who was throwing them at the firestorm destroying their neighbourhood in Kingslake West. Inside 12-year-old Jack was in charge of his two young brothers, Will, three, and Cooper, two, the boys huddled in the half-full bath with wet blankets over their heads. God bless young Jack, a man now really, who knows what he did to keep his brothers calm and safe. But he did.
It's always the stories of the children that hit home the most. I don't know why, but I think that once you've actually had a child, you become an emotional wreck when you come across stories of bad things happening to children. If it's an episode of ER with a sick child, or a Law and Order SVU episode about sexual abuse or one of the far too many stories that I see on the news wires about the horrible, horrible things people do to children, it takes all of my strength and mettle not to burst into tears. (Well okay, if I'm at home, I have no hesitation at bursting into tears, but one has to control oneself here in the office.)
I find myself thinking what if that was my child, how would I feel if it was happening to her or him, how would I cope, how would they. I don't think you've got any idea until it actually does happen, and you pray everyday that you never have to find out what you'd do.
You pray that your life will stay full of the routine, mundane and mind-numbingly normal things that drive you berserk until something like the fire tragedy happens and it reminds you of how bloody lucky you actually are to have your family with you and a roof over your head and all these things like meltdowns and car accidents and long school days in your life.
At the time of writing 181 people are dead, police fear that the death toll could be close to 300. You can't put yourself in the shoes of these families, even get close to what's going through their heads, how they're dealing with things.
But you can bet your life that it will be a long while before things like double-booking lunch dates or not having time to shave their legs in the shower or trying to find an hour to go to the gym will be a priority in their lives.
Maybe we should all rethink ours.