I don't know what happened this morning, but I really did it this time. I opened the newspaper in the early morning. That is just a rookie mistake to make. Did I learn nothing from the last time I thought: hey, let’s be an informed adult! only to end up doomscrolling, stress-eating, and questioning every second of my life that led me to this moment?
And there it was, another shooting in Brussels. This is the third shooting in 24 hours with Kalashnikovs. The scene of a bullet in a little girls room was burnt in my brain. So apparently, we can’t have nice things in Brussels. Brussels, the so-called capital of Europe, a city I love, a city filled with history, diplomacy, and beer so strong it could make you forget your problems (for a while, at least). And yet, it’s always making headlines for all the wrong reasons.
It hit me harder than I expected. Maybe because I was relieved the kids were at school, but suddenly, I wondered, should I make them text me when they arrive? It’s been a while since I last did that. But today, I felt it again, that creeping unease, that old familiar feeling. Because the truth is, once you've lived through something like this, it never really leaves you.
Years ago, when Brussels was hit by terrorist attacks, my husband was there. Both of my brothers were there. One was getting to the center of Brussels using the subway. The other one was getting on the train to start his commuting journey to Brussel. Bjorn was already at the office. The news was on that morning, and it was early. When the images, the noice, the terror hit me because the journalist started to scream. I remember a sheer panic, the desperate need to hear their voices. I called Bjorn first, who was in lockdown in the center. I called my brother before he could get in the subway and he got out. The youngest didn't start the journey to the center. Bjorn found a way out of the city, after the second attack in the subway. That day was horrific. And yet, we were the lucky ones.
So today, it all came back. The fear, the uncertainty. It was a calm day, but not in my head. I was freezing (though, to be fair, I still have the flu), so I buried myself under a plaid on the couch, hoping warmth would settle the storm in my mind.
And then evening came. The kids were home, filling the house with their stories and laughter. Dinner was a chaotic mix of exam talk, kitchen disasters, and reflections on their final year at college. Just looking at them makes my days happy. Their energy, their smiles, they pull me out of my thoughts and into the present.
I glanced at my husband. Our eyes met for a second, and in that silent moment, I knew he felt it too. The past still lingers, the fear still sits in the background. But we are here. We are safe. And these kids? They make everything worth it.
