Oh, Ms. Miriam Carey, how I find myself wondering, what would it be like to be an infant in your car on a day like yesterday? A scenic drive with a suicidal maniac when helplessly strapped in to a carseat to protect me from your crazy driving and whizzing bullets. And then to live outwardly unscathed – but totally uprooted. A foundling, hugged by a cop as he hauled me away from your bloodied corpse. Did I understand what had happened? Did I love you? Was I even yours? If I were to move forward twenty years and examine the video archives of your Gotterdammerung – could I remember? Could I fathom the awful portent of those crazy moments? Did I know that woman that you were? Could she have been my mother? If she was, will I snap like she did, for some reason no one knows? Will I suddenly find myself unable to handle the stresses of living, and decide to meet fate head on? I may never know, but I will always wonder.