The Boston Marathon

the boston marathonWhen I lived in Boston I always looked forward to Marathon Monday.  Even if I didn’t have the day off I liked to stop by the finish line to cheer for the people who ran the longest.

The day of the bombings I was on Boylston Street with the finish line in sight when I turned around and headed back to the office.  I’d forgotten to do something that I felt couldn’t wait.  As soon as I was back at my desk a co-worker came over and told me a bomb had gone off at the finish line.

I said that was not possible.  I was just there and nothing was wrong.  And then he showed me the pictures.  There was no time to process the shock.  I had to make it home safely and reassure my family.

Now every time I stop for coffee, go back for something I’ve forgotten, or change my mind completely, I wonder what will or will not happen because I’ve changed course.

I know I would have been at the finish line at the time of the bombings but I was not.  This fact makes me grateful and terrifies me at the same time.


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