|Our two tallest buildings|
Boston is my city. My adoptive parents brought me home to a two bedroom apartment in a decent neighborhood (though that's more debatable now) before we moved out the boonies, twelve minutes from the city line (yes, I've timed it). I will marry there in the church where my parents were married and where I was baptized. I have walked the streets (and made fun of them for being created by cows) and seen the sites. I have stood in line many times at Mike's Pastry (yes, the line at Moderns is shorter, but I like Mike's better). I have a membership to the Museum of Science and randomly drive to Cambridge/Boston to go there, cursing the traffic on 128. Fun fact, you can stand in both Cambridge and Boston at the Museum. Very neat. Northeasterners are hardy people. I have heard us described that way many times. We endure long and hard winters. We suffer heat and humidity in the summer when we flock to the coast for relief. We have been hit with both hurricanes and nor'easters in the same year. And we deal with it, usually with a cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee in our hands and a Red Sox cap on our heads. We work hard and play hard. We are immensely proud of our sports teams when they are winning, and secretly love to complain about them when they are losing. We have suffered heartache before. Two of the airplanes involved in 9-11 came from our airport. We take our shoes off mostly without complaint, feeling the deep shame that comes with that association and the losses we suffered. We host an amazing event each and every year, and have for over 100 years. We read fluff pieces in the paper about Dick and Rick Hoyt and joke about how it is the one day of the year that the people of Boston chase a Kenyan through the streets. I for one can not wait for the 2014 Boston Marathon. It is going to be the best year yet. We are hardy people, remember? I do not run. Ever. But I am going to start training. And maybe I will run next year. If I do not, I will be there along the route cheering people on, like when I was a kid. I will not be alone either, even if I have to take a vacation day. I am determined (or stubborn, depending on how you look at it).
|Fenway Park - Home of the Boston Red Sox|
A part of me could only wonder. What about all the natural parents out there who do not have contact with their children? At least ten children were injured (based on the number being treated at Children's Hospital Boston), one killed. What about the adoptees who may have had family running or watching near the finish line? When not in reunion, it is so scary to think about not knowing. At an event like this, it is not completely unfounded to wonder about these things.
When events like this happen, people usually pull together. I have seen it already as family and friends have rallied and will continue to do so over the next few weeks and months. To me, it highlights people coming together in the best of ways, and showing the world that while you can beat us, you will not break us.
My heart goes out to the victims and their families. My heart also goes out to those who do not know if they were connected to the victims due to separation (due to adoption, or any other reason). Hopefully we all will find peace somehow, and will show each other the way home.