I turned off my alarm at 5:15 and considered canceling my morning walk with my friend. I was tired. I was unmotivated. It was cold outside. But I didn't want to let her down. We were unaware of what this day would bring as we walked along. I complained a lot about the cold as we navigated the still-dark and quiet neighborhood streets. We were unaware of what had already taken place just a few blocks over. After a half hour, we parted ways, wishing each other a good day—completely unprepared for what was to come.
There were two reasons my husband and I moved to Pennsylvania. The first and most important to us was that we wanted to raise our children close to family. We dreamed of big holiday parties and fun outings and picnics—the things large families do. Big dreams are always nice but not to be confused with reality. Things don't always go the way you hope they will.
But that's a story for another day.
The second reason was that there was a shooting in the apartment complex next to ours. In our minds, we were leaving a 'dangerous' area and going to a 'safe' one.
But evil can find it's way into any community.
Several years ago a young girl was brutally murdered two blocks away from us. That had a profound effect on me.
A few months ago a neighbor was shot in the leg right behind our garage. It's scary to think these things can happen so close to your home.
And this week, as I whined about waking up early and whined about the weather, and talked about trivial things with a friend, an unthinkable crime—a domestic dispute-turned-mass-murder—was already in progress just down the road. Hearing the story made me fearful. Later, when the victims' names were released, I felt sick. Two were students at my daughter's school. They rode her bus with her every day. They were kind to her. She considered them friends. One was killed. The other survived.
