There are certain places in life that feel sacred simply because of what they represent:
A home.
A classroom.
A playground.
Places where we are supposed to be safe. Places where life is meant to bloom, not break.
Last week, Kryvyi Rih, Ukraine — President Zelensky’s hometown — was the target of a missile strike. At least 18 lives were lost, including 9 children.
According to BBC News, some of the children were killed while playing near a playground. Others were at home with their families when the missile struck.
The youngest wounded survivor was only three months old.
An image of a quiet, empty swing hangs in my mind.
And I wonder — how do we hold so much grief in a world that seems to be moving faster and faster past it?
