Nearly one week ago today tragedy struck Boston. My favorite city. A place I consider home (so much so that I have a tattoo of Massachusetts inside my left arm). I sat at my work desk Monday after the news came in and I was glued to any major news network that was reporting (which were most) or had a live feed. I was also texting my three best friends who are from the area as well. One of which still lives in the area. She is safe and well, as are all of my friends and family, including those that attended the marathon and live in Boston.
I was stunned, to say the least. Patriot’s Day in Boston is a day of celebration. I’ve been to the marathon. I’ve watched and cheered on the runners. It was surreal seeing people’s faces full of terror and first responders jump into action in the streets of a city I’ve spent so much time in.
I’m still having trouble, a week later, putting how I feel into words. I feel so much for the families directly affected. The mother who lost her 8-year-old boy. The professional dancer who lost a foot. The officer who lost his life. It’s so difficult to comprehend.
But in the face of tragedy, so many people have responded to their call of duty, like the police officers that immediately jumped into action. The random passers-by who supplied drinks to those who needed just a little help. The runners who finished the marathon and kept running to the nearest hospital to give blood.
It’s so hard to deal with this from across the country (and let me say that being 3,000 miles away doesn’t mean I feel the hurt any less) but the people who have offered so much help have made me feel just a little bit better.
In the face of this unspeakable act, Bostonians have shown how strong they we are. Wicked strong.
paigetopus 