I was in Boston last week for a conference (which still went on as planned, and I thank the organizers for that) right after the Boston Marathon.
As you can imagine, it was not the trip I planned. My phone/email/social media channels/in person conversations all focused on how I was and if I was safe, “with everything that happened” to this iconic U.S. city.
Police every place I went
“Shelter in place” — a new and scary phrase
Military and FBI presence in common everyday places
Answers that don’t cure the heartache
The Kid was not made aware, thank goodness. A few of the week’s tragic events happened a little too close for comfort. Meanwhile the city’s residents remained ever so gracious to us guests. I thank all those who cared enough to check in on me and were worried. Even the airline employees were asking me about my time in Boston. A blog post about these memories seems trite to me, but us writer types feel compelled to write, even when we do not always have the words. Not gonna lie: I was a bit worried during those six days, but I tried to find the balance between not being afraid of the sinister “they” the they who is behind the mayhem and not being unnecessarily risky and naïve that the mayhem couldn’t or wouldn’t spill into my normal thankfully boring life. Some moments, though, the thought of walking nearby to get a Dunkin Donuts coffee outside the perceived safety of our hotel seemed a little iffy.
I am always glad to get back to Colorado, no matter where in the world I travel. In that small way this trip was no different. But then again, it was unlike anything I had experienced. As a waiter told me, “It feels like Gotham City outside.” It was a surreal week, and my heart remains with those who are suffering.