The first time I ever watched the Boston Marathon was when I lived at 485 Park Drive. We watched the leaders on TV and then when they got to Coolidge Corner, we went outside, down a block and joined the thousands lined up, to cheer them on. It was kind of cool. But other than the Hoyts I didn't really know anyone's stories. I didn't watch on TV and I never went to a race again. But I was watching the Marathon two years ago. Why I had it on, I'm not sure. I remember the explosions and seeing the smoke coming up, wondering what on earth was happening.
Then there was the aftermath. My mom's friend Jenny had been hurt when a piece of shrapnel lodged itself in her chest. I remember driving my husband to work the morning of the manhunt and seeing deserted streets and police cars. We drove right by the neighborhood he was found in. My husband showed up at work to find no one there. Finally one of the cleaning crew or building staff told my husband there was a lockdown and Honda Village would be closed until further notice.
Last year, my mom's friend Jenny, ran the marathon. It took her awhile, but she did it!
This year I'm unsure that I'll watch the race. I will most likely be sleeping, and even if I wasn't, I feel like I'm a jinx, like something bad will happen if I watch. It may seem silly but that's how I feel.
And then of course there was the trial. They found him guilty on all 30 counts, and now we must wait to see whether he will get the death sentence. I'm not even going to write his name, he deserves no such honor.
May this year's Boston MArathon be full of hard work, joy, and tears of happiness.
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