Steven was 8 years old; his brother Billy, five. They loved playing firemen like their dad. They played in the waiting room, in the cafeteria, and when someone would take them, in the atrium.
They knew their dad was hurt, Grandma had told them so, and they had seen their mother crying; but they hadn’t seen Daddy, so they were sure he would be okay.
While the adults talked in whispers, Steven and Billy continued fighting fires and saving babies, sometimes with swords and capes. They knew they could not stop fighting until daddy told them it was safe to go home.
This week’s photo: © J Hardy Carroll