Boston

I came home from a meetup to see all of the horrible news.

Immediately, my mind went to April 19, 1995. A day that began almost mundane… and within a minute, turned into a horror.

I remember flying into my hometown that afternoon. I remember driving my car on I-35 and seeing the rubble.

I remember tiny Baylee Almon, her body clutched in a firefighter’s arms. That brave man ended up killing himself a few years later. I remember talking to my friend, Randy, and hearing the pain in his voice as he told me that his fiancée and their unborn child were killed in the blast. I remember desperately phoning Richard, to find out if Kenneth was okay. I remember my mother, her face so pained – she was a therapist a few blocks away, and treated many of the first responders. I remember a friend who was a first responder, who told me in a strangled voice about pulling parts of tiny bodies out of the rubble of the nursery. I remember the shock. I remember the odor that permeated the Festival area. I remember the grief…

…but most of all, I remember the love. How people turned out to help those in need. The food brought to the church on 23rd and Walker. How strangers would simply ask “Are you okay?” The love of so many outweighed the hatred of so few.

“Despite everything, I believe people are really good at heart.” ~ Anne Frank

I believe you, Anne. I hope I always will.

Now, go write.

HRH, Princess Scribe

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About princessscribe

#Filmmaker. Living with #Cancer. #Animal lover and foodie.
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