Sunday, March 6, 2011

A puddle of red remains under the wheels of a bus. My mom and brother sitting on our steps, surveying the tragedy is silence."It was that little boy down the street..."

My sobbing bus driver later tells me: "the first thing I said was, 'oh shit...'"

A pile of steaming gray remains: a sprinkler in front, a green jungle gym in back. A family standing on the grass, surveying the tragedy in silence. The mother has a sudden realization:

"That noise... that noise was... was our baby?"

How could you have left him behind?