The photos with that slanted winter light look like home to me. I know those trees, those cops. I know how those people sound. I know how those classrooms smell. I have volunteered in Connecticut classrooms. (Not how they smell today-- but on an ordinary day. They smell of peanut butter, and mittens, and markers, and grubby little boys.)
I once saw a little boy that age in the back of the class, unnoticed by the teacher, slowly and thoughtfully licking all the dust off a TV set. I know those kids.
I was reading the footage. Nobody knows much yet. Even when we know what we can, It won't make any sense. And then I thought, these parents have already done holiday shopping. They have trees up. They have gifts purchased for boys and girls who are dead-- dead. What will those people do now?
Isn't that a small and stupid thought to make the tears come?
