It started off just like every morning.
There were showers and bowls of cereal and hair dryers and someone who couldn't find his shoes again.
Lunches were packed, each according to taste -- no mayonnaise on one, extra meat on another, a few more grapes for this one, a banana for that one.
We scrambled for last-minute homework corrections, tossed our stuff into respective backpacks and hit the road.
The few minutes drive was uneventful, just the normal chatter and silliness.
We arrived at school, and I jockeyed for a spot in the drop-off zone, parked and popped the trunk where everyone retrieved their packs.
I held each one of them a little longer this morning, right there in front of their friends and everyone, kissed them and made sure they knew they were loved.
Then, they turned their backs and walked away. I stood there, staring, wondering how many people of Newtown, Conn., did the same thing on Friday, never thinking anything of it, never imagining it would be the last time that ever happened.
I got back in my car and drove off. It is a typical day, after all, and there are things to get done.
But I'm hoping for time to pass a little quicker and the final school bell to ring a little sooner today, because today is not a typical day.
Was your day different today, too?