I spent much of Thursday night virtually holding my 21-year-old niece's hand -- and she mine. She was alone in her house in Newton, MA, across the Mass Pike from Waterbury, and she could hear the explosions and the sirens. "Is this normal?" she asked as we texted through the night. It is now. Over and over we learn -- that we can't protect our children, that we can't guarantee tomorrow, that we should treasure today because tomorrow a crazy police chase might lock down your neighborhood. That is something lost, yes, but it is also something found. This is not the first time we have been knocked off our feet, and we are not the first generation to pick ourselves back up. That is normal. It will take us a while. We'll mourn and grieve and recalibrate. And then... We'll get started.