Sitting in front of Davis Squared shop with my new pen and notebook. I bought two notebooks when Margo and I walked through Harvard at the Curious George store, one for me and one for her. It’s called My Travel Journal: A World of Activities. Indeed.
A scary day to be in Boston but it’s a day no different than any other when you pull back a bit. No, retracted. This day is different because now my eyes are filling with tears on behalf of blood shed just blocks from me, and that didn’t happen yesterday or the day before, never in my lifetime have I been so close to a tragedy casualty city scenario. I’m unnerved.
My reaction? I ran towards it of course. Already at Kenmore headed towards Copley to meet Christian at the finish line, I watched police start running east towards Copley, same direction as me. Ambulances, sirens. Then the runners stopped. Every single runner still alive, still allowed to be in motion stopped on the race course. I took a video and posted it to YouTube because that’s what you do, that’s how I felt. I called Christian.
Are you safe?
Yes, bombs just went off at Copley.
Yes, we’re safe.
OK, get out of the city.
OK, see you for dinner.
OK. My god.
Walked out of the city. People crying, people calm. On the other side of the BU bridge I stopped Margo, I don’t know why. Her white hair and blue eyeliner running wild around her eyes caught my attention. I can’t remember what our conversation started like but it bled into spirituality and god if there is one because that’s what you talk about when you’re sad because your city’s been bombed on race day and you need a friend.
Margo and I walked arm in arm from BU bridge to Harvard, down Brattle to her friend’s house where we were fed scotch on the rocks and a healthy dose of puppies playing on the red persian rug. Her friend drove her to her other friend’s house where she could be with family, and me to Davis Square. Now I’m on to Tufts because that’s my home as much as anywhere right now.
My first reaction was to run towards the fight. My second to ask my family and friends if they were safe. Third to broadcast news of my own safety. Fourth to take stock and see if that safety message was true. It was. I was breathing, I was comforting and comforted, I was walking, I was not alone.
I wish well for Boston and all those hurt and all those hurting and I wonder why someone would do this and I am angry but now is not the time for anger. Now is the time to take stock and give a hug and receive one and not to be alone. Because at the end of this day we will turn off the news, turn off the chatter, and most of us will be able to say I love you to the ones that mean the most to us, and others will not.
I pray that everyone can remember that the sun will set and rise right on schedule, and that that is a good thing. Tonight is the night to look at the stars and say I am alive and I can change this madness, I can be kind in chaos and bold in face of daily hardships. Wake up and live your life for yourselves and the people who no longer can.
I’m crying now. Crying in Davis Square. I’m fortunate to have escaped, made a friend, found home. May fortune carry you home tonight, and may you realize you are your own fortune-maker when you reach out to someone in need.
Stay safe, with love, Katie Vogel.
One thought on “My Boston Marathon”
lovely essay, Katie. Thank you for sharing your wisdom on this sad, sad day.