I work in Boston’s Back Bay-Copley area. I had lunch with my bestie at Copley square last week and that spot between the two bombs is where you can usually find some great food trucks. Sugar Heaven, that candy store next to Marathon Sports where all the blood is staining the sidewalk, is where I bought my co-workers candy because they helped me prep and score my sweet new job.
All of that is now part of an active crime-murder-terrorism situation. And when the tape comes down and the stores reopen it’ll still be a crime-murder-terrorism situation. There’ll probably be a memorial– first ad hoc then something more permanent like a placard in the cobblestones.
Everyone has great things to say about the strength and resilience of Boston and its citizens. I’m more than inclined to believe them. Boston’s fucking awesome. “Masshole” is a term of endearment for us. Collectively, we’re unfuckwithable.
I on the other hand, I’m paranoid and scared and sad and don’t want to (also I can’t because it’s a crime scene still) go north of my office building. Not sleeping, eating, feeling safe.
All this time play-planning for survival and apocalypse and I’ve spend most of this week with no idea what to do or say or think. I even wore shoes one day that I could not have walked for miles in!
So… I need shoes I can wear to work and run from danger in.
I need to resume never watching the news because I was right about it being horrible and awful.
I need to exercise because science says it lifts your mood and prevents you from being got in a situation that requires strength and endurance.
I need to make a habit of eating and sleeping and doing normal things because one day I’ll wake up and Boston will be a normal place to be again.