Reflections from Boston

Ed. note: Katrina Langer is a member of the MorristownGreen.com family who helps with editing tasks from her home in Boston. She wrote this reflection after Monday’s bombings.

By Katrina Langer

Boston is a city of traditions. The St. Paddy’s Parade (the first ever), everything related to the Red Sox (the greatest ever), and of course, the Boston Marathon (the most historic and hardest to qualify for).

On the books, the last one is “Patriots Day,” a remembrance of the first battles of the American Revolution. But in the hearts of Bostonians, it’s a day off from work and school that nobody else gets; it’s a spring kickoff; it’s baseball and barbecues and beer (another Boston tradition).

For runners, it’s the proudest day of their lives. It’s years of hard work culminating in a celebration with tens of thousands of other runners at the end of a grueling 26.2 miles.

This Monday, one of our traditions was marred — broken by two explosions just 10 seconds apart on one of the most beautiful streets in the city.

It’s a street we’ve all walked countless times, with family and friends, or as businessmen and -women going to meetings at one of the many offices crammed into the city, stopping at Starbucks on a cold day for a pick-me-up, and finding quiet sanctuary inside the Boston Public Library. All of these things sit under the shadow of the Hancock Tower, which reflects the clouds and sun almost perfectly on a sunny day. A day much like Monday, in fact.

On Tuesday night, I did something I never thought I would do: I watched a Yankees game. The Sox were playing in Cleveland (and I’ll admit I spent more time on that game), but I knew that Yankees fans were about to do something they would not ever normally do: They were going to sing Sweet Caroline. Another of our treasured traditions. And they did.

This is just a small piece of the overwhelming support pouring in from around the world. If you’re wondering what you can do to help, keep your eyes tuned to your social networks — there are nearly 200 injured people who will need support in recuperation and therapy. But if you can’t donate money or time:

Come visit us in the place we call home. Though Boylston Street is bloodied and empty today, there will be a time (soon, hopefully) when you can walk down it and take in the view of Copley Square on one of the clear blue sunny days we love so much. Get an ice cream on Newbury Street and visit the Make Way for Ducklings statues on the Common. Stop at a bar (anything but Cheers, please), watch a ballgame and sing Sweet Caroline with us.

If you can fill our streets and our hearts with all the love you’ve shown us this week, we’ll return to normal before long. Stronger than ever.