Tonight was open house at the girls’ school. The campus full of families and kids excited to show off all the neat projects they’ve been working on.
Walking across the blacktop thinking there’s nowhere to go if someone started shooting. Walking into the girls’ classrooms thinking there’s nowhere to hide if someone stood at the windows.
Looking around the room and noticing that the teacher has the blinds drawn and a poster blocking the door’s window–almost certainly a security measure to protect her students. Her students. My daughter. Our world.
Looking at the artwork on the walls and recognizing that a classroom just like this one is still covered in blood from the bodies of the children murdered there two days ago.
An open house to celebrate their school year.
A unspoken vigil for the victims that didn’t get to finish theirs.