As I'm sure most of you know, there was a bombing at the finish line of the Boston Marathon yesterday. Here's a little bit of writing I did last night before bed to try and wrap my head around the tragedy.
I've been trying for the past few hours to distract my mind from what happened today. What started this afternoon as a surreal feeling of disbelief has become a feeling of great heaviness on my heart. This is my home. I live a little more than a mile from where this event occurred. For almost two years I passed through the Copley area on my way to work every day.
Copley Square is one of my favorite places. Copley Square is a melting pot of tourists, corporate professionals, street musicians, students, and panhandlers. Copley Square is tall gleaming sky scrapers next to the marble pillars of America's first public library and the old brick of the Trinity Church. Copley Square is a public green space that hosts a farmers' market two evenings a week during the growing season. Copley Square is food trucks, demonstrations, city buses festivals, holiday lights, and ice sculptures. Copley Square is the heart of this city.
Copley Square is not explosion, blood, limbs, tears.
I was folding laundry when Mike very seriously called me into the living room to see something on the tv. What I saw was confusing. Helicopter images of a scene that was simultaneously familiar and completely unfamiliar. Boylston street with debris and blood stained sidewalks. Seeing familiar storefronts in images that look straight out of a war zone is incredibly jarring.
For the next few hours I connected with friends in and around the city via social media and text. My twitter and facebook feeds were aflame with "I'm okay" and "I'm safe" notices. I celebrated each one. I answered texts and phone calls from friends and family far away assuring them that Mike and I were home safe with no intentions of leaving. I learned that a friend was watching the race between the two explosions, and that she made it home safely. I looked at photos and video I probably shouldn't have. It took me almost 8 hours for it to really sink in, and then I cried like a baby.
This is my home. I am okay.