The 15th of March was two days

The morning of the 15th of March I woke up ready for a positive day with my son at Cathedral square, to attend the school strike for climate.

The protesters were in good spirits, there were a mix of students in uniform, hippies, parents, dogs, and young children. We held our signs saying ‘There is no planet B', listened to the talks and admired the other signs. By far my favourite said, ‘Earth is not flat, vaccines work, climate change is real'. Just ticks all the boxes for me. I wished I could stop to chat to the sign-writer but the chanting goes on.

Still the climate change deniers have made an impact on our society, and it was clear that not only The Secondary Principals' Association but also my child's school took a dim view of the protest. My son's school had declared he would be marked down as ‘absent unjustified' if he attended. Stuff them. A recent article in The NZ Herald reminded the media once again to not promote the climate deniers' point of view and said that the gold standard of proof has now been met according to a paper published in Nature. The science of climate change is proven but here are the kids, protesting despite their personal consequences, because the adults are not willing to follow the evidence.

In fact, just last week I was talking to someone at work who said that all this climate change stuff was just an overreaction. I wish that were true, but I know it isn't.

It was going to be a busy weekend, with a 9-year old's birthday party sleepover to organise, decorations to be hung and food to prepare. We left the strike a little early to get back to pick up my youngest and get started, and then I got a text from my husband; “Be careful. Active shooter at mosque by Hagley.”

Then a link to the Stuff article ‘Evolving situation'. I have to read the text twice. Three times.

We are at the car and I see people walking by the river. Do I get back out and say something to them or just go? I look at my son. I just go. To the library as my husband had suggested, and we end up spending the next four hours there, locked in.

The library staff are very nice. I pay a fine and check on a book on hold. I play oversized Connect-Four with my son and read him a book. I spend my time with my phone plugged into a monitor to charge, scrolling through social media, with half an eye on the mall car park through the floor to ceiling windows, half an eye on my son, wishing the computers weren't quite so close to the windows, and the windows weren't quite so large. Nerves on edge, mind spinning. How many deaths? What is happening? With every car that drives by, each siren, tension. My son is coping amazingly well, playing games and then watching silly videos on YouTube. Thank goodness for silly videos.

Finally, we get the go ahead to leave. One hour in grid-lock traffic all the way back to the Primary School where the teachers are doing an amazing job with my son, the last child to be collected.

Home. Grumpy hungry kids get beans on toast, and eventually go to bed. Waiting for my husband I scroll through Twitter. My heart is broken, my eyes well up, how could this be happening in our city. Are there more shooters out there? I think of losing my own family and break down. I can't imagine what the victims' families must be going through, following the drip-fed news, not wanting to know the details but needing to understand how this could happen. Then I remember the climate strike kids. I hope their message is not lost.

I'm not going to make any skeptical comments on this tragedy. I just want to say; my heart goes out to the families. Your loved ones should have been safe in our city, you are us, and we will all never be the same again.