I’ve not done a blog post on the Boston Marathon bombings until now for a lot of reasons.
First and foremost, this awful thing that has happened to my city, where my parents grew up and met and were married, where I was born, where my entire family lives, where I’ve worked and spent so much time throughout my life and never moved away from since the day I was born, has always been an untouchable place. Nobody fucks with Boston.
Except now, somebody has. And there are no words.
Secondly, and no less important, this isn’t about my, yours, or anyone else’s fucking blog.
Third, it still hurts now that I wasn’t there to give my shirt to stop the bleeding, to throw myself on someone’s kid to shelter them from the blast, to pull a man to safety, to tell someone that it’s going to be alright.
Bostonians may put their heads down when you walk by them, they may swear at each other, among other things, but we know each other. We don’t put on airs for each other. Bostonians love each other and we love our city.
We are Boston, we are strong, we are proud. And we are not afraid.