how you live your life

it's impossible to describe how you live your life after terrorists set off bombs in your city. you avoid saying the words "terrorist" and "bombs" because they still scare you. you wake up every morning crying because your alarm is set to npr. you don't change your alarm because you don't know how to feel other than sad.

you work from home because terrorists set off bombs four blocks from your office. you leave the tv on the news all day, even though it upsets you with it's content and reporting. you have multiple tabs open on your computer to different twitter feeds, constantly hitting refresh, refresh, refresh. you hope that someone will say something to make anything make sense. you need to know every story of heroism, death, injury. you need to feel connected to your people, your city. you contemplate never leaving boston ever again. you need to refresh.

you go to jamaica plain for lunch because you have never been there and always wanted to go. you sit by a pond and eat a sandwich, watching teenagers, adults, eight-year olds walk around the path. you want to hug every single one of them. you wonder what you would tell a child. you wonder how to explain that there is no way that anyone could have stopped this. you can't cry anymore. you watch a bad movie instead.

you wake up crying because terrorists set off bombs on the street you walk to and from work on. you take the train to work, passing national guardsmen and a blacked out copley station. you are thankful for sunglasses. you have meetings and want to scream that none of it matters because people have died. you look across the table and see red, bleary eyes and realize you are not alone. you refuse to respond to people from out of town who try to talk to you about things other than your city and its people.

you go for a walk at lunch. you stop at the makeshift memorial that has formed two blocks from your office and watch a monk pray. you see a tv news man push a girl trying to deliver flowers out of the way so he can get a good shot of the monk. you leave. you buy three hydrangeas from the three of you for the three of them. you elbow reporters out of the way to drop them off. at night, you see your friends because you can't be alone. when you are alone, you watch only the news and then none of the news. you can only fall asleep with murder, she wrote on in the background.

you wake up in the middle of the night and forget that terrorists set off bombs in your city. you remember. you cry.

you walk to work, thinking it will feel less weird. you get to the street you normally walk down and make a left at the metal gates covered with flowers. cops stand in groups of two, three, four, shoulder to shoulder in front of the local businesses. "there's nothing wrong," they say. "we're just here to make you feel safe." military police walk toward you, always in groups of two. you see more cops than you do non-cops. in the eight blocks, you pass eight metal barriers guarded by cops, decorated with flowers, signs, and teddy bears. you pass four armored trucks. you realize how easy it would be to dissolve into a police state. you take a right and see a middle aged woman ask another, wearing a marathon jacket, if she can hug her. the survivor agrees. they embrace.

you pass the same memorial you left flowers at the day before. it's less crowded and you walk toward it. someone has replaced the chinese flag with an american flag. there are more flowers. people have started taping notes of love to the cement. you are thankful for sunglasses.

you watch the news conference releasing the pictures of the suspects, the pictures of the guys that look like your brothers or your friends. you hear the words "armed and dangerous." you feel the words "armed and dangerous." you don't want to get on a crowded train to go home. you don't want to go home. you want to do anything. you leave work. you go to dinner with your friends. you wonder why anyone would want to blow up a marathon. you think about hats. black. and white.

it's impossible to describe how you live your life after terrorists set off bombs in your city because you are not living your life. you are living your new version of life.