Paris.

My heart swells because it’s suddenly too full, holding so many people inside.

My heart holds those who lost their lives. The families worrying and waiting to find out if their loved ones will come home. And the families who already know they won’t.

My heart holds the ones who had to choose between outrunning a bullet or laying down and holding their breath. Those who chose to lay down. Those who ran.

Those who carried the injured. Those who comforted the wounded. Those who watched their neighbors die.

My heart holds the first responders who - I am always amazed by this - sped toward the danger, risking their lives to save others. The commanders who had to make the call - head in and sacrifice innocent lives to bring down those causing the terror, or stay back and continue to let the terrorists reign.

My heart holds the leaders who are expected to reassure nations.

My heart holds the medical professionals who have to treat wounds and pronounce deaths. 

My heart holds the refugees who cannot enter through closed borders, and will continue to live in daily fear of the destruction and terror we’re witnessing now. The refugees who have already entered and will most likely face terrible backlash as they search for a better life.

My heart holds those of us who stared in shock. Those of us who closed our eyes and prayed. Those of us who ached for strangers.

My heart holds the ones who will have to discover a new normal, full of fear or loss or war. And those of us far enough away who will continue living our own normal, while trying to find a balance between remembering and forgetting.

My heart holds all of us. All of us, we who cannot comprehend the incomprehensible. 

My heart swells because it’s suddenly too full, and it overflows through my eyes.