Emma Kawer (HPHS Class of 2014)

I was on a run this morning on the green bay trail. I started running towards town when I noticed that the people I was passing were decked out in Fourth of July gear, carrying picnic chairs and wagons with their children in it. I realized I was running towards the parade, and I was so excited. I texted my family saying “the Fourth of July parade right now!” Incase anyone would want to join me.
I ran down St. John’s towards central Avenue when I heard the shots. I thought it was a sound for the beginning of the parade- and I took that as a signal it was time for me to turn around since I didn’t want to run straight into the crowd. I noticed some people were screaming- but I thought it was just out of excitement for the floats and the candy being tossed out.
I continued on the Green Bay trail the opposite way.
My sisters started texting in our group chat that there were gun shots at the parade- and I told them that it was probably police officers firing off rifles to commence the start of it. The same thing I had told myself earlier. I did start to notice the sounds of sirens going on, the ambulances flying by through the trees of the pathway I was on. Then my sister sent the article “mass shooting in highland park, IL. Breaking update”.
I turned around and started running home. I sent the link to my friends. My boyfriend called me to see where I was and met me on the trail to walk me home. I kept telling him I was fine- still not truly convinced that a shooting had just happened in highland park.
When I got home my sister and mom were there, and my dad was on his way home. The news was on with breaking updates. It was real. My phone started flooding with check in texts and new information for what’s going on. I shut down.
Highland Park is home. It was where I felt safest. I would feel safe walking my dog at 3 am in the dark- that’s how comfortable I felt. “Nothing bad happens in highland park” are the words I used to hear to be comforted about being home alone.
I am heartbroken. Truly. I cry whenever a shooting happens. I feel it in my heart. But when it happens in my own community? The town I grew up in? I’m not sure I found the words for that part yet. I know how to type out everything that happened leading up to it- but describing the aftermath falls short. I’m devastated. Numb, shocked, sad.
Sometimes I find writing as an outlet. I don’t even know what I’m writing right now. A shooting in my own home? It just isn’t something I can process. I hope everyone is doing as okay as possible. I’m still trying to figure it out myself. It’s unthinkable.
If anyone needs to talk- I’m here.
And the last thing I’ll say: national gun reform. Now.

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