I am taking off my writer’s hat.

Last week there was a horrific event in Paris that shook the world. As reports came in, people reacted in various ways. At first I felt numb. After, I felt angry at myself for not feeling empathy right away. Something my husband says I have a lot of. Maybe because we are so used to violence in the streets, in the world, in the news and newspapers that we get desensitized to what is going on. It wasn’t until the day after, on Saturday, that I wept for the victims, their friends and families and the country of France. The death toll had risen quite a bit since the night before and there were a chance it could continue to do so.

In 1981 a group of us from my high school, with chaperones like my mother, went to France . We were from Northern Maine where our heritage, our culture is so tightly ingrained in our French bloodline. We speak it, read it and pass it on down. Well most of us do. France and Canada are part of us, it is where we are from.

So those two countries have always been near and dear to us. Visiting the capital of Paris was overwhelming, exciting and an adventure I will never forget. Visiting the Louvre, Notre Dame and Monte St. Michel are memories still packed in my brain cells. The people were friendly, open and willing to help us if we needed it.

After 9/11 this was a picture that came out of France. They were staying with us, next to us, together. One of our best allies we have ever had. So to see what they have endured over the last 10 months was heart breaking. And even if all I can do is weep for them, if all I can do is offer my prayers to them, we are one in spirit.