Tonight my work girlfriends and I went to see Sex and the City. And yes, we did the obligatory Cosmos before hand (though I had a Corona Light) and discussed which characters we each are. I was immediately deemed a Charlotte (whatever). And even though this movie basically defines “Girls Night Out” I couldn’t help but wish I was sitting next to my husband. The man I sat next to during every episode of the series. The one who I could lean over and share my commentary with, like, “that would never be us” or “that is so us”. Anyway, I rode to the theater with one of the girls, because I think I look good in her new Mercedes, and at the end of the night she drove me back to the office to get my car. And that’s when it hit me. How do I get home?
I live and work in the city limits. And just last week a little girl was shot and killed by a stray bullet on a street between my house and my office. A 10 year old girl. A stray bullet. In my city. That’s not OK.
As I pulled out of the parking lot of my office I pictured street after street I could turn up to get home. But each route took me too close to the shooting. Too close to the stray bullet.
I know that this is where I should do something about it. This is where I should promise to make a change. To get involved. To lend a hand. But instead, right now, this is where I feel sad, this is where I feel hopeless.
Sex and the City was great. I laughed. I cried. I will drag my husband to see it. But this city, tonight, just made me cry.