It's a small, scary world.

You may have read about six-year-old Cole Puffinburger. He was kidnapped last week from his home in an awful, drug-related attack in Las Vegas. This all happened literally one street away from my brother-in-law's house and two streets from my mother- and father-in-law's house. As in, Google the street name (I found it on the Review-Journal's story) and their streets are in the same close-up screen. Add to this the fact that my mother-in-law teaches kindergarten and could have been Cole's teacher if he had lived on the other side of a street. And Cole's father was in the same graduating class from high school as Peter. These are, quite literally, the people my husband grew up with.

Thanks be to God, Yaweh, Gaia, Allah, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, or whomever else you'd like to thank, Cole was found perfectly unharmed and is safe now. Sadly, I think he is in the minority for missing children. I seriously cannot believe that he is OK and that they found him so quickly (relatively speaking).

The most frightening part of this for me is that my in-laws want to leave. They already have a house in Michigan waiting for them. But the housing market in Vegas is so awful, they can't leave. They say it seems like everyone on their street is just waiting for their chance to put their house on the market. What if they can't leave in time? What if the neighborhood just keeps deteriorating and there is no option to leave? This scenario has played out in many other cities hundreds of times through history, no doubt, but that never makes it less frightening for those living it.