I find myself with a few minutes before Jeff and I have our "date" on the patio... with a glass of wine each and a fire in the fire pit. The much-expected pops, booms and (minor) explosions are in the air, much to the dismay of Buddy. Hopefully his meds kick in momentarily and he'll be enjoying his high so much, that the fireworks will not bother him in the least. Ah, yes, the fireworks -- telltale signs of the 4th of July, when we celebrate our freedom and remember those who have fought/died (are fighting/dying) for the privilege. This brings me to the ironic realization that while the entire country is whooping it up, eating picnic fare until they are about to pop and setting fire to small explosions... there is at least one person who is faced with having her freedom revoked: Casey Anthony.
Yes, I have become swept up in this soap-opera of trial, often referring to the key players by name, as if I know them personally. I have looked at Caylee's sweet, innocent face in photographs so many times that my heart literally aches each time they air them anymore. And every time the courtroom cameras cut to Casey -- her gaunt face usually screwed into a malicious scowl -- I just want to slap her. Hard. Whether or not she actually did what she is accused of doing is something only she and God knows. Regardless, her negligence on some part is responsible for that precious child's demise. As a parent, I have felt the pressure of being "judged" -- whether by peers, my mother or the public in general. Case in point: dragging two pre-schoolers and a toddler to the grocery store one afternoon, where the three boys worked me down to my very last nerve. And to ice the cake, the two 5-year-olds unbuckled their little brother as I was smack in the middle of loading groceries at the check-out. Tell me there isn't another parent (or even childless adult) out there who wasn't passing judgement on me as I dashed from the check-out lane through the produce department, chasing a laughing toddler, trying to calmly/sweetly call after him... all the while sweating and swearing in my head.
Yes, I have felt judged. However, the microscope of judgement I felt placed under that day is nothing in comparison to what Casey Anthony must be feeling now. And, again... it's ironic that on a day of celebrating freedom in our country, there are 12 individuals who hold her freedom in their hands. Did she do it? Didn't she? Who did? I'm sure the verdict will come soon enough, but it's way too late for Caylee. I don't envy any one of those 12 jury members, because despite the weeks-long trial, all evidence is purely circumstantial. And no matter if the justice system finds her guilty or not, she will have to answer for her actions -- whatever they were or weren't -- later, under God's judgement.