Yesterday was a tough day -- And today is no better, as the reality of yesterday's bombing at the Boston Marathon sinks in. My heart is just so heavy today.
As a point person for the North Shore Cyclopaths, I immediately tried to figure out the status of our gang at the marathon, and relied on social media. I was relieved to hear Donna, Kathy and Meg were evacuated from the finish line where they were handing out medals, celebrating amazing athletic achievements. Mike K's runmeter stopped at 24.3 miles and I couldn't tell what was going on... or where he was at... which heightened the tension. I could only pray that his two little boys weren't in front of the BPL waiting for their dad to come down Boylston Street where the blasts occurred. I learned through Facebook the status of MK and other friends, and got the word out to the group, relieved but still numb. These things don't happen here. Not in Boston.
My boys gave me a hug to comfort me when I broke down in tears. I worry about the affect a tragedy like this has on them -- how it might change them -- but the awful reality is this is how life is. They are growing up post-9/11 -- their cousins have been deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan in the war on terror -- and there have been just too many horrific events in recent years. Passing through security measures to get into school, or learning of a bombing just three blocks from my old office, doesn't really hit them like it does me -- or maybe they're stronger than me.
I love this town. I try not to drop my r's, or say 'wicked awesome' too much, but I'm proud to be a Bostonian. Deeply saddened, too.