I vowed I wouldn’t get too caught up in the stories and images of the Marathon. But here I am, in my silent, pre-dawn house, ensconced in what is now so clearly just the veneer of safety (the same veneer we hope to wake up into each day, we who live in the land of the free and the home of the brave). A veneer, of course, that we all know is there, on some level.
Today might be the day we are diagnosed with cancer. Today might be the day our loved one gets struck by a car. Today might be the day we have a heart attack. Today might be the day our home is lost to a fire. Today might be the day our spouse walks out. Today might be the day we miscarry.
We all know this. That any day might be the day our façade of safety, security, and happiness might be punctured. But we willfully forget, day after day, hour after hour, chore after task, meeting after email after conference call, soccer match after ballet class, dishes after dinner.
Today I remember: all I cherish is built on the freedom to cherish it. Such a simply concept, freedom. So hard to find fault with it. So hard to conjure up a mindset where freedom is the enemy. So hard to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes, if that mile is paved with the belief that terror is a justifiable antidote to freedom.
I don’t know how long it will take me to forget again. Perhaps hours, perhaps I never will.