Adventures and misadventures in France.

Boston, You’re My Home

In the aftermath of Monday’s attack during the Boston Marathon, it is difficult to be so far from home. My heart goes out to all the victims and their families. I am so grateful that Boston has many of the best hospitals in the world, and that the emergency responders and medical teams were able to save those suffering from terrible injuries. My aunt Jackie and many former classmates are among these heroes.

The Boston Marathon is meant to be a day of celebration for the city and its heritage. I can remember staying at my grandparents’ apartment on Exeter Street, only a block away from the finish line, and collecting free merchandise among crowds of spectators. Another year, I helped my aunt Pam film a marathon-themed audition tape for the reality show Survivor. It’s terrible to think that tragedy will be the only memory of the 2013 marathon.

An article by LZ Granderson published by CNN eloquently reflects many of my feelings about the attack:

 

This morning, I received a call from a French coworker, Jean-Francois:

 

“We have never met, but I have heard you are from Boston. I read about the attacks this week, and I wanted to express my sorrow for your home, your friends, and your family. I hope that your loved ones were not injured. Boston is a lovely city. I studied there on an exchange program in college, and the Boston Marathon is a great celebration. Our country shares the pain of your losses.”

 

My city, my home, and the people of Boston are in my thoughts and my heart this week.
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Comments on: "Boston, You’re My Home" (3)

  1. Joan smith said:

    the city is grieving, Kim, but will band together and help each other with a spirit that cannot be broken.
    I remember so clearly all the things you spoke of. Uncle Paul was making an annual luncheon at our apartment then on to watch the runners.
    We miss you!! and love you!!

  2. Martha Vaccaro said:

    Boston is a very resilient city, Kim. But why? Such a happy occasion forever marred by this senseless incident. My nephew, Martin’s son Patrick, had just crossed the finish line when the first explosion occurred. He was lamenting his time and quickly realized how insignificant that is. Love you, Nana

  3. Beautiful post Kim. Love mom 🙂

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