Tuesday, April 16, 2013
A piece of my heart is in Boston.
My heart is hurting for Boston. I love that city. I loved living in and near that city. I loved everything about my experiences in that beautiful, historic town. In the year and a half I lived there, I had several visitors and became a a fairly good tour guide. I never got tired of taking people on the rounds...to stops on the Freedom Trail, for a pastry in the North End, to Red Sox games, to the Charles River, the Old North Church, Boston Common, Newbury Street, the U.S.S. Constitution, and Harvard Square. Even when it was below freezing, blizzardy and snowing, I still loved that place. It got in my blood, and I left a piece of myself there when I moved home. I find that most people that live there have the same sentiments. I dream of living there again one day with my family, even if just for a short time. (There is an Air Force base close to Lexington, so it could become a reality some day).
I'm so disturbed as the details emerge of the bombings. To learn they were homemade bombs in pressure cookers filled with nails, bullets, and whatever shrapnel would inflict the most harm. To learn that one of the victims was just 8 years old. The loss of life and limbs....all taken by a coward who won't even stand up for whatever his or her cause may have been. I'm praying the person or people that orchestrated this may be caught; both for justice and closure.
How disheartening to know the safe, carefree world I enjoyed as a child is disappearing. My kids are not growing up in the same world I did, and that makes me sad.
I'm praying for Boston, her people, the victims, and that the person or people who did this will turn themselves in.