The Boston Marathon | 2013

One of the major and most important things about Massachusetts and Boston is the history. However, much of that history is learned in school, or is something well known like Thanksgiving and its origin. So, I decided to dedicate this blog post to the Boston Marathon Bombing, a more recent event in Boston's history that was shocking and devastating to the area and many others. I thought because I was there, at the event that day, I could give some insight into what it was like to be present.

The Boston Marathon, one of the oldest events in Boston, is a spectacle to see. With people from all over the country and the world, it is really something special. The attack was April 15, 2013 and I had been going to the Boston Marathon for a few years, with a couple friends while one of their dads ran the race. The first explosion (though extremely loud) did not scare me as much surprise me; myself and everyone around me though it was a celebratory cannon, but the smoke I could see down the street was a little confusing to say the least. I remember the sidewalks being so jam-packed, with no room to move. There was a dad right in front of me with a little girl on his shoulders that started to cry a little, and he kept reassuring her it was ok, and nothing was wrong. However, his calm demeanor quickly changed when the second explosion went off to our left now, this time slightly closer and obviously not meant for celebration. I will never forget the way he grabbed onto his little girl so tight and pushed his way through the crowd, doing whatever he could to get away. My 2 friends and I were with one of our moms, and together the two of us kicked over the barrier of the race, latched onto eachothers hands, and ran anyway we could without running into people. There were many racers still trying to finish, among all the chaos. I saw many people and things that that day that continue to shock me, and I can still feel all the emotions I felt that day as well. After we had run to some random point on Boylston Street, we stopped so my friend and her mom could call her dad and try to find him. I stood there, holding onto my other friend, shaking uncontrollably and looked around, noticing a man with shredded pants, and a woman with blood all over her hands. I forget sometimes that when this happened I was only 16, and still had a flip phone and was still in love with One Direction. Nevertheless, the four of us trucked on, and after going into every nearby stores and hotels and eventually getting evacuated out of all,  we had walked across a huge chunk of the city until we found her dad, safe and sound. One of the big issues during this day was the malfunctioning of the phone lines, leaving my parents to find out this happened on the news, and then being unable to reach me for hours.

Later that night, hungry, tired, and shocked to the core, we arrived back home after hitching a ride with a relative in Boston, due to the lot with the car being inspected for further bombs. I have never seen my mom so upset and happy at once, because of what could have been. I didn't sleep that night, as it sunk in what had actually happened. I hadn't had an iPhone at that time, so all the news that was being covered that day was unavailable to me until that night, and it hit me like a brick wall. I believe it was this event that made me realize what I wanted to do in college and hopefully for life, is criminology. That day will be with me forever, and to this day I still keep up on what is happening with the man that did all of this, who was only my age when he did that. Watching videos of the marathon actually gives me chills and kind of makes my throat hurt, in that strange way that only happens when certain things strike that spot in your brain or your heart. I feel beyond lucky to have been there and not have gotten injured or hurt in any way, and I am proud to be Boston Strong.