I heard it again yesterday.
chunk
The sound of a brick being put into place as a wall is built.

I was home for the morning with Max and Maggie. We were having a good time playing, eating, just being in the house together; with the way my schedule’s been, that hasn’t happened much in the last week. After a while, we wound up in the basement, and I sat at the computer checking email while the kids ran around playing. They were chasing each other with a feather boa thing; it was the source of all evil, and to be touched by it was agony! They’d run around, tossing it on each other, scream in mock agony and giggle hysterically.

As I’m watching them do this, I go to my homepage to check my email, and the news headlines on the screen announce more bombings. More earthquake fatalities. A picture of a devastated building. Zooming by, feathers in tow, “Daddy! What’s that?! What happened?” she asks, seeing the picture of the building.
“Oh, there was an earthquake, honey, a long way away. Some buildings got knocked over.”
“Oh my gosh…was anybody in them?”
*pause*
“Some of them, honey. Some people got hurt.”
“Did they DIE?”
*sigh*
“Some of them, yeah.”
“Oh no.”
chunk

One more brick in the wall between her and her innocence.

I’ve heard it other times. Going to baseball games in Detroit and passing beggars on the street. People with plastic cups asking for change.
“Why does that man need money?”
“Well, he might not have a job.”
“So you gave him some money to buy things?”
“I gave him a little, to help him.”
*thoughtful pause as we walk*
“Will he get a job?”
“I hope so honey.”
“Me too.”
chunk

Zooming by, grabbing the boa, Max saves the day – “Yaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!”, pulling her back into the world of play. Off she goes, chasing her brother, yelling and laughing.

I watch them play and wonder “how long?” How long before that wall is a big, imposing thing in her life? How long ’til it blocks out her view of the world? When, I wonder, will her fascination with the simple beauty of a leaf, or a pinecone, be snuffed out – be pushed down into a tiny corner of her being, walled off by fear, or mistrust, or disbelief or disdain? And how, I wonder, can I protect her from that?

I heard it when we had to tell her that my grandmother, her Nona, had passed away. She loved her Nona and, still not quite clear on what death was, we had to explain to her that she wouldn’t see her anymore. She started crying, saying she didn’t want her to be gone, she didn’t want to never see her anymore. “Why?” she’d sobbed.
chunk

They’re in the other side of the basement next, feather boa tied to a stuffed animal so it can be properly flung around. Laughing, squealing. My computer screen-saver comes on, pulling me out of my distracted stare. Looking at the headlines, I lose interest in being on the computer. I jump into their game, grabbing the boa. I grab the two of them, pin them to the ground and, using the stuffed animal, tickle them both ’til they squeal.
“DAD!!”
Then they jump me, taking their turn to tickle me in revenge.
As I fall to the ground, overwhelmed by little hands, I imagine I’m a brick.
A brick falling from a wall. Kicked out of a wall. Shoved out.

I know.
I can’t knock them out forever.
But I’m damn well gonna try.