I have strong opinions. Too often, I keep them to myself, which is cowardly.
I promised I would not write another sad story for at least awhile. This isn't a tale. It's true and it happened, here.
* * * *
“We’ll probably never know why,” the police chief said, in response to the reporters’ questions. “He acted alone.”
* * * *
This is what I want to say to the little boy who shot himself in the woods by the middle school earlier this week.
“I promised my friends I would write no more sad stories for awhile. I like to make others laugh, not feel bad. I’ll take on your sadness, alone. I'm an adult. It's my province.
“Don’t think your death was insignificant. It wasn’t. Right now, all I can think about is how you ran into the woods, alone. I've imagined, ceaselessly, what you may have been thinking in those long minutes before you took your own life a few days before your fourteenth birthday.
“When you saw the Sherriff’s car and knew it had been summoned because you arrived at school with a gun. What would happen if you surrendered.
“When I was your age, we were permitted to be children. We were told we would learn from our mistakes, although truthfully, most of us had no clue what we were supposed to learn from falling off our bicycles, other than how to fall on the grass, rather than the concrete.
“That’s all I can say to you, now. I’ll reserve the rest of my comments and address them to the adults.
“If I can find just one who will listen.”