You always trust your gut

Yesterday, as we do every day that it is nice after school, we prepared ourselves to head to the park just down the street from our house. The kids gulped back their sliced fruit, eager with anticipation for what was to come. Things 1 and 2 raced out the front door, donned their bicycle helmets (hey, I've instilled safety first in these boys!), and raced down the street. I struggled to keep up with my two speedy cyclists as I barreled down the road with two one-year-olds in our red Radio Flyer wagon.

The park, a mere two hundred metres from our house, is a complete ray of beauty in our busy neighbourhood. It is wide, open, hilly, grassy and bursting with various areas in which to play. There are two sets of swings, one for older children, one for babies and toddlers, and two climbing play structures with slides. There are trees and paths for hide-and-seek, a gigantic hill for tobogganing in the winter, and paved paths for rollerblading or biking. It's a serene little piece of existence nestled in this mostly peaceful community.

As the Things and I closed in on the edge of the park, I abruptly noticed a strange man sitting on one of the benches beside the large play structure. I didn't recognize him, and I didn't know him. (And I am *that* nosy and chatty mother in the neighbourhood who knows everyone, chats to everyone, is up on all the gossip, and is aware at every moment of her park visit which child belongs to which parent or provider.)

My eyes did a quick scan of the park to see if the man was accompanied by any children.

He wasn't.

He had a small coffee cup sitting next to him on the bench. He was also smoking. This made me uncomfortable, as the Things have basically never seen anyone smoking before. (I'm not sure why that is, I think it's just the way circumstances have worked out for them at this young age and in today's more health-conscious society.) His clothing looked worn and slightly ragged . . . largely uncharacteristic for this middle-income neighbourhood.

I instantly resented that he was taking a small piece of innocence away from my park. My safe haven. Our sanctuary.

I refused to make eye contact with him. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I instantly, with my whole entire being, didn't trust him. I wouldn't - couldn't - shouldn't give him the benefit of the doubt on the very same afternoon that I had just learned that a man and a woman had been arrested for the murder of Tori Stafford. But that police had still not found her body.

Has our society evolved to the point that I cannot possibly fathom that this man is just out on a beautiful, sunny afternoon enjoying the natural beauty of our local park? Am I so tainted with negativity, skeptism, and fear that I automatically passed judgment and assumed he had bad intentions? That he was watching my children, preying on them, searching for clues to identify us and try to decipher where we live, which house is ours, which car is ours, what time do we go to sleep . . . at what times of day we are most vulnerable?

Yes, it has. If it happened to Tori Stafford, then I'm afraid it could happen to any of our children. And the only way to be vigilent and feel confident that we are doing our ultimate best as mothers to protect our young is to be suspicious, doubtful, untrusting - and to make others earn our trust. To make others work for it.

And so, yesterday afternoon I left our neighbourhood park with a heavy heart. I stayed glued to my children's sides the entire time the man sat on the bench, not allowing them to run free and play until he had left, walked to the edge of the park and was safely out of my line of vision. If he was just a man taking a break in his day, stopping for a moment to pause this insanity that we call life and enjoy a cup of coffee and a cigarrette, then I apologize.

But my gut told me something else, and once you become a mom, you always trust your gut.