I haven’t posted a blog in ages…the toddler/lawfirm/school thing was enough to take up my time.  Today, I just wanted to explain how I feel about the “community” of  Boston, and why any of us feel so compelled to talk about this past week and the bombings of the Boston Marathon.  I think I just need to give a little homage to my beautiful City.

My first foray into education began with stepping onto a bus from my stoop in Brockton, Massachusetts.   All the way through the 3rd grade at Whitman Elementary (God rest its concrete bones) I spent my childhood.  We moved that summer before fourth grade to New Mexico.  It was a long way from friends; it was a moonscape town; streets changed from “Oak” to “Cibola”, from “Main” to “Dal Paso”.     My heart never left Massachusetts.  I moved back here, to Quincy (That is QUIN-ZEE to those of you not from here), and started a new adventure.  I took the “T” into work in Newton (a subsection of Boston) every day.  Red Line to Green Line to Bus.  I rode the dreaded 57 bus from Kenmore to Newton Corner every single morning and night – squished in my seat along a road marathoner’s run, to a ballpark where dreams live.  I spent St. Patrick’s Day in Southie, Fourth on the Charles, and two years in a row I took Patriot’s Day/Marathon Monday to stand and cheer people on as they ran the last stretch of Boylston.  I met wonderful people of all nationalities and ilks and felt the City’s pulse beat with mine.  I had my baby at St. Elizabeth’s in Brighton.  I spent summer afternoons letting my son breathe the fresh air at the Commons.  Jim and I moved to the Cape this past November, and every day we talk about moving back to the city.  We need the city, and all the beautiful homes and rocky beaches won’t change that in us.  Too many white people!  Too many retired people!  There aren’t any pot holes!  Why is a lobster roll so overpriced?  Why is everything so overpriced?  Who shuts down a CVS at 9pm?  – We say about the Cape.

Two bombs were detonated at the Boston Marathon on Monday, April 15, 2013.

Sometimes it is easy to get swept up in the sensationalism of it all, especially with social media in all its twitterverse fervor.  My best friend in New Mexico mentioned that she didn’t feel it was necessary to post about the incident, and she is right.  When you don’t live here it is different.  I realized that while this is a national incident, it isn’t going to feel the same to people that aren’t in Massachusetts, other than worrying about your loved ones being okay.  The thing is, when you ARE in Massachusetts, and you’ve spent even one day in Boston, your loved ones wind up being the people of Boston.  I think it was Menino (Boston’s long time Mayor) who said “Everyone knows everyone in Boston”.    It is true.  Literally, it is a close knit city, but there is also a “knowing” when you have spent time here.  Possibly unlike any other city.  It is “the city of neighborhoods”.  You don’t have to know someone’s name, but you know they probably like a good Dunkin Iced, they like the Red Sox, they say “How ah you?” with an accent, whether they have an accent or not.  I only moved here in 2010, but my Brockton classmates never forgot me – we’re even planning a reunion – I never forgot them.  You don’t forget Boston.  The Revolutionary War started here.  People here remember, they know history, they pull fiercely together to protect their own.  When first responders have a funeral, they televise it.  People line the streets to thank those that help us here. They support the IDEA of brotherhood of man.  It truly is a living, breathing City, and it becomes part of all those feet that pass the cobblestone and cross the Freedom Trail.  The city embraces you; The people of Boston make you one of their own.

I am one of their own, and all those injured and killed in this incident are my own.

I am Boston Strong.