It was supposed to be the day I kicked off being an author. See? I have this fancy (ahem) new website, and right there under my name it says “Author.” That’s how you know it’s official.
Instead, some sick bastard(s) attempted to make this day about them. A couple of well-placed homemade bombs, and suddenly we’re supposed to perk up and pay attention to whatever it is that led them to take the lives of three people (including an innocent 8-year old girl) and injure a whole lot more. After all, nothing garners sympathy for your cause like random acts of terrorism!
But, you know what? I think they failed. This day wasn’t about them. What I saw, while the news shoved video of the explosions down my throat, were the people who responded to the blasts. I saw yellow-vested police officers run towards the blast sites while everyone else was running away. I saw marathon runners who had just completed 25+ miles shift course and make for the nearest hospital so they could donate blood. I saw hundreds of New Englanders open up their homes to the stranded Marathoners that were unable to return to their hotels. I saw people all over the country shed tears and say prayers for the victims of this terrible crime.
This day belongs to them. To the people of Boston, and the giant middle finger they gave to the terrorists that tried to make today about them. Today, they showed the world what it truly means to be a human being.
As for me? There’s always tomorrow.