I wasn't going to post something on the blog because I couldn't formulate my thoughts, but I just found out that a former classmate of mine was among those killed in Newtown, CT, a town close to where I grew up where I used to attend my writing group. I was devastated by what I heard before I realized this woman was among those killed, and now that devastation feels much more personal. It made me reflect on the true sense of peace and happiness I had at school as a child. I often jokingly told my mom that it was all down hill after eighth grade, but I truly did feel that some of the most carefree, joyful days were spent at my school (even though if you knew me in grammar school you probably thought I was a little "high strung"). Besides the awful violence, having that sense of freedom and safety taken from you as a little child is one of the most horrifying crimes I can imagine; not being able to believe that the world is a safe place when you are only six, or eight, or ten is wrong, and it's unfair, and it's criminal. Knowing that a person who was part of my childhood memories suffered in such a senseless act breaks my heart. For any and all people touched by this horror, my tears are for you.