"I can't breathe"

I woke up and set my intentions for the day.  I was off to an outdoor yoga class and then I thought I was going to be helping paint my daughters living room.  As it turned out, my daughter was bringing the kids to a Black Lives Matter protest downtown.  I thought for a moment and realized that I wanted to go along in case she needed me to help with the kids.

As we walked towards the protest, my grandkids carried their signs with pride.  My nine year old grand daughter was old enough to understand and verbalize, that she was doing this to support a cause. She later stated, "All people are equal and Black lives matter."  My four year old grandson was less verbal but none the less was engaged with the energy that surrounded us.   Despite their age difference, these two are quite close.  Sure, they argue like most siblings, but they defend each other fiercely.  They are both products of a biracial marriage,  my grand daughter inheriting her black fathers features and my grand son looking more like his white mother.  Both beautiful beings.  If things don't change, it is quite possible that she will not have the same white privilege that he her brother will have, just because of her curly hair and darker features.  Things have to change.

I've cried a lot lately. For George Floyd and others before him.  For their families.  For the good police that truly protect all people.  The heart of it struck me as I was carrying my grandson on my shoulders as we marched toward main st.  The tears came again as I heard him chanting along with the others..loud and clear.
He was repeating over and over..."I can't breathe, I can't breathe, while holding his sign high for all to see. " I can't breathe, I can't breathe.