Unanswerable

Sometimes, I wish I were a child again, aware of naught but fun math problems and sturdy crocuses pushing up beneath the moist leftover leaves and the excitement of a favorite food for dinner.   The family dachshund would sit in my lap and put his chin on my leg and be warm and soothing while I played board games with my siblings.  And if I had a bad dream, I could go to my father as he sat at his desk shuffling his papers, and he would tell me that it was just a bad dream and it would all be OK, and he would carry me back to my room and tuck me in with my favorite blanket and leave the hall light on for me.

I would not have to try to understand why bombs are placed at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.  Why one human being can be purposefully, deliberately cruel to another. Why Evil raises its ugly horned head and breathes death and destruction upon the innocents.  Why. Why. Why. 

I will never understand. 

It was important, Dumbledore said, to fight, and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then could evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated. . . . ― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince