No photo today. Can't do it in light of the unspeakable tragedy here in my state.
My grandudes are in a school just like that one. My kids went to a school just like that one. Our town is a bit less affluent, but has about the same size and character as Newtown. It could have been here. It could have been my kids, my granddudes. In a small state, it feels so close. How can one survive being the parent or grandparent of one of those slaughtered children? In it's own way, how can one survive the horror of knowing your own child or grandchild survived but your friends' and neighbors' didn't? In a small close community, everyone is horribly irreparably wounded. Ten, twelve years, when their classmates go to the prom and graduate, these children who *should* have been there will still hauntingly be present.