I cried at work this week. More than once actually. That photo, that story, thousands of people walking from one country to the next.

Thousands of people in a situation I can’t even imagine, and one father having an experience I can imagine too well.

I always enjoyed watching the news for a living. Wanting to know what’s happening right this second is part of my DNA. There are days when it has been fun and fairly easy and days when it has been very, very hard.

But at the same time this time back at my old job has been a reminder of how much I love this work. Just like last year was a great reminder of how much I love politics and policy discussions.

I missed being in the middle of it all. I missed being allowed to know what was happening in the world all the time in real time.

Even when that meant seeing the worst of the world. Maybe most of all. Because you get to see the ways people react, and that can usually restore your faith in humanity. Most humanity. Spending days weighing the good and the bad.

In my head not knowing is always worse than knowing.

Of course, being at work or in school and knowing what’s happening in the news takes me away from always knowing what’s happening in my own house with my own family, and that’s a price I’m currently paying.

Something that’s hurt my heart that day of that picture. That I was here without my daughter, and she was at home without me.

But one day last week, after I arrived home around 1 am my daughter came out of her room. She was half asleep, maybe she heard a noise or had a bad dream, but she was walking in to see Daddy. I saw her lift her head up and I saw her see me and that smile erased any of the pain and sorrow I had been feeling.

It’s like she knew I needed that hug.


Children. They are magic. And the idea of the loss of one, just one innocent soul and the pain that would fill that void is too much to bear.

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