We're okay, whatever that means

A response to friends checking in, post-explosion

Yesterday morning, which happened to be Christmas, a bomb went off in downtown Nashville. We live about half an hour away from the area, and none of us heard the explosion, though I know from social media that some of my neighbors did. For our little family, we were completely wrapped up in the unwrapping of our toddler son's first memorable Christmas. Santa had gotten him DVDs of Doraemon (Japan's beloved series about a robot cat that befriends a young boy), some new Hot Wheels tracks, a coloring book, and styrofoam airplanes. Santa also made sure to get the baby his own blanket, a fancy drinking cup for Jin, and a colorful new outfit for me. A few hours later, I learned about the event through social media. And suddenly, our internet was out. I had maybe one or two bars on the phone. It felt annoying to be in the dark about what was happening. Friends from New York started texting. Apparently the news had become the center of national attention. Throughout the day, Jin and I would check our phones, and our internet would come back, sometimes for a few minutes every few hours. It was slow and unpredictable. The neighbors, we learned, from socially-distanced conversations from our yards, were having the same issues. Later, we'd find out that the explosion took out an AT&T hub, and that the phone lines and internet of Nashville, Louisville, and even parts of Atlanta were affected. That the explosion only injured three people, and they're still investigating who did it and why.

Even as I draft this, I'm not certain that I'll be able to send this during this little blip of internet I have in this moment.

So unlike other newsletters, this will be choppy and perhaps more of an announcement than an essay, a message just to say that we are safe, and we know just as much, if not less, than you do about what happened.

Even though this is a new, strange, disturbing event, my physical and emotional response to it feels weirdly rehearsed. When the tornado happened in early March, it happened just two miles from our house, but we were thankfully, miraculously, fine. When the pandemic hit Nashville, the pivot to quarantine was difficult, but we made it work. Yesterday and today, Jin and I are worried and wondering about the explosion at the back of our heads, but our immediate attention has been to keep the children fed, happy, napped, cleaned, and back. The insanity of keeping the children alive is, once again, the thing keeping us mentally sane. The sun is out. It feels taboo to even say this, but it's actually a beautiful day.

There’s been, for a long time, this dissonance between “what's happening in Nashville" and what our life in Nashville actually looks like.

I may come back to this and process it all differently. Don't we all, after a big event? But for now, I want to reassure you, my friends, family, even those I've never met but virtually, that we are okay.