I am a life long Orlandoan. Sure I moved away a few times, but I always came home. Orlando is where I chose to raise my family. Orlando has always had magic for me.

And then the bubble burst. Shattered. Gone.

While struggling on Sunday morning to understand why I felt so distant my husband nudged me toward my first step in really understanding the effects of terrorism. I have stood too close to terrorism before. On 9-11. This felt different. Was it because I have kids now? Was it because the LGBT community is so near and dear to my heart? Was it proximity? Maybe a bit of all of those things, but I think the answer lies down the path he shown a light on… Someone broke into my castle. Orlando has been my sanctuary and now it can’t be. There is no more bubble. Once someone has broken into your house it doesn’t matter what they take because the real damage is the lack of sanctuary.

 

I’ll admit it, I am a Disney lover. In our family, in this house, in our castle, we believe in Magic.

The thing about Magic though is that it is never really gone. I always thought that the Magic the bubble provided was inherently pure. That the Magic meant that nothing bad happens here and the memories created are forever perfect. That isn’t the Magic though. The real Magic is the warmth of community inside of our bubble that could never be broken, smashed, faded, or even fixed. We are a broken community like so many others. But we are strong. We are trying to stand up, brush ourselves off, pick up our neighbors, and remember that the world is watching and we can show them exactly what kind of Magic Orlando really has.