Frozen with fear.

My way home from the gym takes me through the center of town, past Noah's school. Every day, as I drive by, I say a little prayer for a good day for my son. I think about him and hope he's doing OK. Like the movie Groundhog Day, the routine doesn't change. I go home the same way, see the same familiar homes, and make the same wish. Every day.

Today, it was the lights of the ambulance I saw through the rain, as I made my way up the hill towards the school. As it sped toward me, I pulled over and at once my shaking hand went to my gym bag to fish out my cell. My mind was reeling.

It was coming from the direction of school.

Oh God, please don't let it be Noah.

Where's that damn phone.

My searching hand found it's target. I hit the button on the front of my LG to see the familiar picture, and no messages. For good measure I flipped it open and called my home voice mail too. Empty. Thank you, God.

I was completely pulled off the road by now. I put the car in park and wept with my forehead on the steering wheel. The feeling of helplessness and panic that overcame me when I saw those lights was replaced by relief. After a minute, I lifted my head and saw I had pulled over right in front of Noah's school.

I said a little prayer for a good day for my son, and drove home.