There's Been a Shooting at Ross Park Mall

 It came like a wave...

I was just telling Shelley this morning about the time I almost drowned, so maybe that's why the analogy is fresh in my mind. I was 23, it was my second time at the beach, and I had gotten farther out than the first wave. I turned to face the shore, raising my arms triumphantly, when it hit me from behind, pulling me under. I can't swim. It was turbulent, and as the water was rushing inside my surprised mouth and I kept seeing the sun flashing red and yellow amidst the salty blue, a hand pulled me to shore, where I coughed up some water and was fine overall. 

It was scary. 

It was a lot. 

It wasn't this. 

We had a couple things planned for today, all of which had gotten cancelled due to the rain, so we decided to go to Ross Park Mall to pick up my Tiffany necklace and bracelet from their cleaning. We figured we'd stop at Home Goods and grab a trifle dish for a dessert I was going to make and then head home. 

When we pulled into the mall lot, we were surprised at how many cars were there-- the mall was packed. I almost left my coat and phone in the car, but decided to bring it in case it was raining when we left. I noted that we parked in row 35, outside of Macy's, so we wouldn't lose our car. 

It was kind of nice to be out and have a little day date, so we decided to browse some stores, window shop at some of the "yeah, sure" priced stores, and I found the softest pullover at Eddie Bauer and decided if I still wanted it after we grabbed what we needed, I would come back for it. We laughed and took pictures and had fun. We stopped in the Vans store to check out their Pride collection. I got a three pack of no-show Pride socks plus a t-shirt and a couple other pairs, and Shelley got some crew socks. I impulse bought a pack of stickers for my guitar case. We chatted to the sweet girl behind the counter about whether or not Pittsburgh was going to host a parade this year. 

We left the Vans store and at 4:31 I texted my sister that we got Vans Pride socks and I felt very complete. I sent this as Shelley was looking at spices in this store dedicated pretty much exclusively to them, and I noted how calming it smelled in there. 

We walked out of the spice store and passed the Pandora store. I commented on how much I hated those stupid bracelets, and Shelley made some silly joke about Pandora's box. I was just about to say we should go in the Swarovski store because it's always sort of fun in there, and we heard some yells echo through the mall. 

I turned to see what was going on, imagining there were some people maybe fighting or causing a ruckus, and I saw a small black woman with glasses running down the escalator with some sort of hysterical sound between a laugh and a scream bubbling out of her. Before I could really process what was going on, I realized more people were running down both sides of the escalators, and then others began. It came like a wave, unexpected and powerful, and right towards us. 

Shelley grabbed my hand and said "run" and we began running. Shelley thought we were going to get trampled by this sea of people, and everyone sort of stopped and looked. I made eye contact with a tall white man who looked perplexed and then horrified as he scooped up his young daughter and began running. 

Shelley and I held hands as we ran, still not certain what the hell was happening. As we rounded the bend to the right, we heard the first gunshot. Shelley's eyes were huge and her mouth was open, and I know mine was mirroring that. We let go and began running as fast as we could and heard a second shot. My legs were tingling and I know adrenaline is the only thing that got me out of there. We were scanning to make sure we were near each other and trying to find an exit, and found the employee exit and went running through it with some other people. 

As we passed down that hallway, two security guards were standing there, slack jawed and probably confused, and I yelled "Something's going down out there! Do something!" and we ran out the door. Later we learned about 8 or 9 shots were fired in the mall, but Shelley and I ran so fast we were outside before we heard the third. 

When we got to the parking lot, a mom and daughter who exited with us asked a couple for a ride around to their car outside Macy's. People began to slow down, but I said I wanted to cross the street and get as far from the mall as possible. We had no idea where the shooter was or if there were multiples, so we passed a baseball field and heard people running and yelling. We ran past the baseball field where some girls hid in a dugout and slid through someone's muddy yard marked "Private Property" and into the cul-de-sac of a new housing development, where we hid behind a dumpster to try and regroup. Within 20 minutes of this happening we heard tons of sirens. They're still ringing in our ears as I write this five hours later. 

A couple moms (sisters) and their daughters followed our footprints and asked if we needed help. A woman came out of her house with her dog and wondered why we all were traipsing through her yard-- she had no idea there was a shooting basically just beyond her backyard. 

A car passed by a few times-- we later learned it was an undercover car, but thought it could've been another shooter. Only now, as I find out that 6 shooters were involved, do I realize we were wise rather than paranoid to keep moving and keep hiding. We walked along a road and stood near a driveway when it began to register what had happened, and we embraced and tried to calm down. A truck circled around to see if we were okay, and we assured them we were fine. The family we saw earlier squeezed into an SUV and offered us a ride, which we thanked them for but denied. The mall was on lockdown, so we couldn't get to poor Arlandria (my car) and had to leave her in the parking lot. 

We were still uncomfortable on the road, and crossed the four way street to a driveway where the garage door was open, and Shelley thought we could ask them for help. I saw a wooded area across the street and suggested we go there, so we did. We stood in this ditch behind some trees and rock piles and kept vigil, waiting for my mum to come and get us, which was no small feat due to the distance and the amount of traffic, the cops, and the SWAT team. 

I noticed a place under the hillside where we were that looked almost like a beaver dam, and suggested that IF something were to happen, we hide under there. I didn't think we would need it. 

After about an hour and a half of popping down like a meerkat any time a car passed, we heard some popping sounds. We were a little uncertain if we were just being jumpy-- for example, a neighboring house was drilling something and we both jumped to the ground. But this was about 8 bangs. Then it sounded closer, and happened again. We heard a man's voice on a nearby porch say "There are gunshots over the hill right there!" and a sliding glass door slam shut. 

Shelley and I began clambering down the hillside to this ravine-type opening, but then we heard the 8-bang sound twice more and then tires squealing and decided to try our luck with the house on the top of the other side. After a lot of sliding and climbing, we made it up and saw a face in the glass door, on the phone and staring. We waved our arms and screamed for help, and the woman went away but a man came and slid the door open and told us to come on in-- we had to bend his fence to get there and stumbled into his house. I couldn't stop shaking standing there, listening to the situation unfolding on the news. 

Shelley was on the phone with my mum trying to coordinate where to pick us up, and the man told me he thought we were the shooter at first and grabbed his son's bow & arrow and was about to let the dog loose-- a massive Italian bull mastiff. Then he saw our faces and realized we needed help. 

Once my mum picked us up and we made it to her house, the three of us sat watching the news. The suspects were apprehended by a bunch of police near Macy's, and it was sort of surreal to be sitting on my mother's couch clutching a homemade cocoa (Lupin was right: chocolate helps) and seeing my car in the parking lot as they panned out to rows 35 & 36. 

Then an update comes through that there was a suspect in the woods shooting at cops basically a block over from where we were hiding-- so that was what we heard, and it was smart to run. 

I thank God for keeping us safe and that we work well as a team and under pressure. I'm thankful for Shelley. I'm thankful for the kind people, and for the souls who let us take refuge in their home. I'm thankful I wore my checkerboard Vans today-- now covered in mud, like everything else we had on today. But we are okay. 

Adventure Awaits

 I have always tried to think of life as an adventure. I’m not a creature who likes change (probably because it’s usually forced upon me rather than something I’ve chosen), so I tend to struggle with it. 

It’s been about a month since we found out that we have to move— that our beloved landlord’s marriage has ended and so he is selling the townhouse we have lived in for the better part of a decade. Our plan was to start searching for a forever home after our wedding, and now this has sort of forced our hand to move before we are ready, which means finding a suitable rental for the in between time. 

I remember house hunting with a certain fondness. I’ve moved about 14 times in my life and most of it was within childhood. I recall my sister and I playing with paint samples and carpet samples, searching for attics or hidden passageways, climbing a great tree (“a liability”, my mum would say), or hoping for a huge yard of our own. 

Rose colored glasses of youth, because let’s be real— it kind of sucks. Now I understand the slightly harried frazzle of my mother as we searched, the things that we thought were cool I now just see as dollar signs. 

A few things I have noticed: it is the middle of a pandemic, and as such, people are charging astronomical prices— and they’re getting the money they ask for. Places are going like hot cakes and some of the ones we have really liked we haven’t even been able to see. I’ve become a veritable Goldilocks, unable to find the “just right” between modern conveniences like central air or, you know, closets, alongside old charm like built in bookshelves and crown moulding. 

It is maddening to me that people block off functional fireplaces. I didn’t really appreciate how attached I’ve grown to our fireplace until it occurred to me that our days with it are numbered. We have yet to find a place with a functioning fireplace. 

Another thing: what is the deal with the basement toilet?! I read an interesting article on the history of it, but it still doesn’t really explain why we haven’t since built bathrooms around these random toilets. 

I sort of have caviar taste on a burger budget, so I’m looking forward to the day we can create a space we love that is all ours, and we aren’t at the mercy of waiting for someone to paint the chipped paint or replace the missing posts on the unstained deck as they ask for $1900 a month for a place with no closets and no yard. 

I know a home is only as strong as its foundation, but also, as Annie Dillard said, “how we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives,” so the home where we spend the bulk of our time should be a safe, lovely, comforting place. You know, like where we are now. 

In the meantime, I will be praying for the perfect place to come along and hoping for the moment that makes us feel all yellow and glowy.