This is an opinion column

I met her in one of the crowded bars at the Charlotte airport. Airport bars are where you go when you learn that your already late overseas flight has been delayed yet again. My husband and I were on our way to a family wedding in England last October, and she (was it Judy or Janie— some J name) was on her way home to Bath, the ancient Roman city 115 miles from London.

She was an American, home on a visit to her parents in Nashville. But now home is the U.K., and has been for years. She works for an international pet food company, raises her family —a 4-year old and two teenage step sons— in the rolling hills at the edge of the Cotswolds. London is too busy for her, but Bath feels just right.

Over a glass of wine, she said she misses her parents and siblings a lot, but will stay in the U.K. Her husband is British, their children are secure in their schools and activities, and life is good. Of course all countries have their problems, and yes, it rains a lot in England, cities have gang violence, and the health care system faces shortages.

But there’s one thing she doesn’t have to worry about, she says: school shootings. The last one in the U.K. was in Scotland in 1996. Already strict gun laws were strengthened and they worked. They still do. Here, according to The Washington Post database, there have been 17 so far this year, the latest last week in Tennessee.

Once our flight was announced and we boarded the plane, she sat just across the aisle from me. Since she goes back and forth across the Atlantic twice a year, she had the look of a seasoned and prepared traveler: neck pillow, headphones, slip-on shoes.

She had a quick phone conversation with her youngest child just before take off. I heard her crooning voice: “Did Daddy get you to school on time? Did you have fun at the birthday party? Yes, I’m bringing you a surprise.”

And then, of course, “Mummy loves you.”

She said her teens make a list of things she’s to bring back from big-box American stores: American brands of peanut butter and cereal, Laffy Taffy, Candy Corn. “Most of it junk,” she says, “but I give in.”

And then we were in airplane land for the next 8 hours—half dozing, watching movies, squirming in our too-small seats. Finally, we touched down at Heathrow, slogged through Customs with all of its stops and starts, and then grabbed our suitcases from the baggage carousel.

Judy-Janie waved goodbye and walked out to get in her car, pulling her bag and carrying a backpack full of gifts for her family. She was safe at home.

This was in October. Since then, there have been more shootings, and now we add to the list the children killed in a Christian school in Nashville, this traveler’s home city.

When this happens, we send the usual thoughts and prayers. Let’s also send hopes that lawmakers will understand that assault weapons are meant for war, that schools work best if children feel safe in them, and that natives of this country living abroad are watching and waiting for change. Surely it is finally coming.

Beth Thames can be reached at [email protected]