Lockdown

There aren't really words to describe the surrealism of what has happened this week in the city I've called home for the last fifteen years. I've made no secret of the fact that I live in Metro Boston. And I am in fact in one of the cities bordering on Watertown, that has been asked to remain at home today. I work in Watertown. The Target that I often frequent is in across from the parking lot that has been overtaken by law enforcement today in the manhunt for the Marathon Bomber. Sitting at home today with L and Hubby, whose office was closed, I can't seem to wrap my mind around it.

It's hard to describe the importance of the Boston Marathon to someone who hasn't witnessed it. I watched my first race a block from the finish line, five floors above where the second bomb went off. I worked in that white building you can see behind the big puff of smoke for two years when I first moved to Boston. I walked past the finish line twice a day on my way to and from my office from the subway.

My company had a party that day. I didn't really understand the hype, having moved to Boston the previous fall. But the city basically turns into a 26 mile party. People are happy. The city is full of energy and celebration. People enjoy the fresh air and sunshine, and support the runners who are accomplishing great personal goals. And that's what struck me. Just how inspiring it was to watch thousands of people running down Boylston Street, long after the elite runners had already finished the race. My coworkers and I hung out those fifth floor windows for hours, cheering on the seemingly endless stream of runners. It never got boring.

I will never have the desire to run a marathon myself. The longest I've ever run in my life was two miles back when I was forced to in high school. I pretty much despise running. Which was why I was  struck by the emotion I felt watching so many average, everyday people, who had worked so hard to accomplish their goal, pass by those windows, one block from the finish line. Five stories above, and fourteen years before that second bomb.

I am so sad, and filled with disbelief that something like this could happen in the place I chose to call my home. I am devastated for those who lost their lives, those who lost their limbs, those who lost their innocence. I am devastated for those who worked and trained so hard for months to accomplish the goal of crossing that finish line, and had their dream cut short by this tragedy. For some reason, I really find myself focusing on those who had their dream cut short. Maybe that is somehow easier than to think about the poor eight-year old boy who had his life cut way too short when he was just so excited to cheer on his daddy. I had actually thought to myself this Monday morning, about how fun it would be someday, to bring L to see the marathon, so he too could see how inspiring it is to cheer people on who are accomplishing their dreams.

I simply cannot comprehend it.