The Marathon Bombings have taken all the wind out of New England’s sails today. Boston is a wreck. Nobody knows who did it, or who is responsible. There is blood in the streets. Men and women are missing limbs. Parents went to bed last night without their child. The city is in chaos, it will be weeks or months before we know who did this, years before everyone feels normal again, and never before we find out why.
I am not from Boston. My family is. My ex-husband’s family is. I have so many friends who live in Boston that my heart was in my throat as I scanned my newsfeed on FB yesterday, mentally ticking off each person who checked in and said they were all right. That beautiful city, my favorite in the world, torn to pieces on that most special day ingrained in Massachusetts’ history — Patriots Day. It’s rocked Boston, Massachusetts, and New England as a whole.
But there is not a single doubt in my mind that Boston will rebound from this. Boston is scrappy. Boston is defined by its strength, by the legacy of the thousands of Irish immigrants who came to the city, forced there by the potato famine in Ireland. The tenacity that makes the rest of the country call its people “Massholes”, some fondly, some in irritation. The tough but loveable accents, the dropped “r’s” that sound like “a’s”. The magical city of dreams where a ball team that hasn’t won in 86 years can defy all odds and take home the title. The birthplace of our nation’s freedom, where the first shots of the Revolutionary War were fired. The beginning that has no end. Boston has everything. Boston is everything.
And she will overcome. The city by the bay will rebound from this, stronger than ever. There is no doubting it even for a second.