Life is slowly returning to normal here. Very slowly. The media cleared out last night and the police cruisers followed a few hours later. I went home for a few hours but eventually left when the sky began to darken and the anxiety started to build.
Physically, there’s nothing to fear. My roommate, who also abandoned ship for safer waters, returned home this morning and reported the house to be VERY quiet. The chances of the suspects coming back are almost nill and with my neighbor gone the people coming in and out of the house has reduced to the remaining residents and their sparse visitors.
Emotionally, this tragedy has affected me in ways I don’t think I expected. The trauma of arriving home to find swat teams guarding your street and CSUs and homicide detectives walking through your grass is difficult to shake. Every drive home finds me white-knuckled, clenching the steering wheel as if I’m bracing myself for impact. I’m shaken by fellow motorists who happen to pass me unexpectedly and shudder as I drive through questionable neighborhoods. I’m nervous as I make familiar turns and my stomach dips and drops the closer I get to the house. I haven’t been at home long enough to realize the impact the space will actually have on me but I’ll be returning home to stay tonight and we’ll see what happens.
For now, though, it’s time for everyone to begin moving on and that includes you, weirdos who drive past my house really slowly like it’s some historic landmark or road wreck. Stop! It’s annoying. And also gross.