Recently, the events of the Boston Marathon bombings on April 15th brought my great city to a standstill. Having grown up outside the city and now living in Boston for the past 5 years, you always think, "Something like this will never happen here, it just doesn't, it's Boston."
Apparently not so.
On that fateful day, I was enjoying a lunch and some beverages at a restaurant on Boylston Street to watch the marathoners with some friends. Watching the runners is as much of a spectator sport as any, maybe even more so with all the camaraderie, participation, and fervor you see every year from this fantastic, character-filled, intense and exciting city. We love our sports, from the Red Sox to our Patriots to the Celtics and the Bruins - our fans are crazy, loud, loyal, proud, and happy to support our beloved teams. Just ask any NY fan. So like our sports, we feel no different toward all the great runners on Marathon Monday, no matter where they come from.
What happened next shocked everyone. Suddenly, in the middle of cheering and eating, we heard a large boom. Our first thought was, 'Wow, whoever's family and friends just set off fireworks in their honor, that's awesome!' We literally believed someone had set off fireworks nearby to show their support for the runners. I only wish it had been that simple.
Too soon after the first blast, another one followed in its wake. We looked up from our plates and locked eyes thinking the same thing. Oh my God, this is definitely not right. Something bad happened.
Our thoughts were soon confirmed when we saw hundreds of runners being turned back, policeman guiding everyone past and behind barriers, people everywhere running away, looks of stricken panic and confusion on everyone's faces.
Thinking the worst, we threw money at our table and ran like hell out of the restaurant. The doorman ushered us past and said to the waitstaff inside, "Don't let anyone leave, we're on lock-down!"
We ran outside to see smoke and people blazing by in fear, nearly trampling others in the process. We had parked on Newbury St. a couple blocks down from where we were, so we simply ran that way to get there as fast as we could.
Stumbling over each other, looking frantic, calling our family and loved ones, panic-stricken, confused, teary-eyed, these were just some of the feelings and emotions running through us that day. My boyfriend was down the street working, so of course I was worried sick, calling incessantly and not getting a response. The cell lines we soon found out were becoming jammed and no one could get through. Same with text messages. Finally I got through to him. "I'm okay babe, we're on lock-down here in my building, where are you?" "I'm downtown on Newbury, we're running to the car!" He had no idea I was watching the Marathon in the area that day, so that was news to him. "Oh my God, okay, well get home as fast as you can, I will leave when they let us, I love you!"
Tears streamed down my face as I heard his voice, not knowing what was going to happen that afternoon on April 15th. After what seemed like forever, we got to the car and high-tailed it out of the city. We drove over the bridge toward MIT and headed east on Memorial Drive home to Charlestown. I stumbled into my apartment down the stairs and straight into my bed, climbed in and started crying. Uncontrollable sobs, watching the news in my PJs, waiting. Waiting to hear better developments, waiting to hear if my friends and boyfriend were safe, waiting to see if they had any further news on who could do such a thing to our beloved city. Thankfully my boyfriend arrived safely home, but 3 precious lives were lost that day, much to the utter dismay and despair of the people of Boston. Hundreds of others were injured and lost limbs. It seemed just so surreal.
I just couldn't believe it. You always, ALWAYS, assume that your city, the place you live and work day after day, will never be attacked. I even thought, okay maybe somewhere else, but not Boston. We're bad-ass, we're strong, nobody messes with us. Movies like The Departed, The Town, Boondock Saints, Mystic River, and more attest to the fact and really speak to the attitude, strength, resiliency, and overall power of the people of Boston.
Sometimes I overhear tourists say that Boston is very unique - it's no New York, it's not LA, but it's Boston - the city where we just don't care about your opinion of us, we're Boston and we like it just the way we are. Our character is still here, loud and proud, accents and dropped r's and all. I must say, I completely agree.
Boston may have been shaken, Boston may have been at its feet that day, but more importantly, Boston's character, the one we know and love, was in full force that day - the power of love, support, help, encouragement, faith, pride, and strength. What I saw were strangers helping strangers, runners donating blood after an exhausting run, volunteers helping others to safety, emergency responders taking care of the wounded and the helpless, people pulling together for the efforts of the greater good and safety of everyone that day.
In essence, what we saw was what we knew all along: Boston Love, Boston Pride, Boston Strong.
After we processed what had actually happened, of course everyone still couldn't believe we were attacked. So brutally, so suddenly, so unnecessarily evil. But we didn't let that stop us from being who we naturally are - strong and ready to respond. Everyday people became heroes that day. It was a beautiful thing that rose from a devastating tragedy.
Of course, social media was inundated with images from that day. Images of tragedy and loss, of support and love, of devastation and destruction, and then of course these types of pictures developed:
These images of Boston pulled us together as a community. It appeared that not only Boston, but the rest of the world was on our side. Terrorists be damned, we would not let this stand, we wanted justice, we wanted safety, we wanted to catch these guys. Above all, we wanted the victims to recover, we wanted the city to feel safe again, we wanted everything to just be okay.
As the first signs of a memorial went up around the blast sites and on Boylston and Copley, I couldn't help but be so PROUD. Proud to be a citizen of Boston and proud to call this great city my home.
The sound of helicopters flying overhead and ambulance sirens going off still scares me today. Looking around, wondering is this going to be another day like April 15th? What will happen?
Regardless of what the future may hold for Boston, I can't help but think to myself:
This city will go on and rise above as it has before, always has and always will. Boston Strong.
-Dedicated to the victims of the Boston Marathon bombings. May you Rest in Peace
