I have not personally met anyone who was at that school.
But we are so connected in so many ways.
People from around the world feel the same way.
How could you not.
Isn't that what we think.
There but for the Grace of God.
There I stand, there we are, there it is.
I know the area well. The scenes strewn about network news. The quaint little corner shops shown over and over personifying the all-american-new-englandness of it all . The homes are familiar to me - to us. We've strolled there. We've shopped in those shops. We've eaten lunches and dinners and snacks there. We've driven past that school hundreds of times.
The school itself is a literal stone throw from Ferris' daycare so very many years ago.
He was five then. Five can be so small.
Ferris also attended the middle school now opening its doors to our tiny neighbors in need.
I hope they find comfort there. I hope they soon giggle there.
The funerals started today. The first two held right down the street from the house we left only a year ago. I imagine the clogged streets and the full parking lots. So many people wanting to share, to grieve together, to support each other.
But we moved. We moved down here by the marsh. Out of the plush suburbs - into our tight community by the sea. Not quite as close here. Far enough so that our schools didn't lock down as our neighbors did. And too far to feel the press of the secret service yesterday.
From here however, I can glance out the window and see the church where a young teacher worshipped... until Friday. She was 27. Younger than my daughter.
She lived with her parents here in town. A vigil was held for them on our town green.
You see we are not so far.
No one is.
We have a little elementary school here in our secluded seaside neighborhood. It's just around the corner. From the back yard you can hear the kids at recess squealing with delight.
Today I see a police car parked in front. Guarding, protecting, comforting.
I am happy the car is there.
I am sad the car is there.
Peace be to all.