On Monday we celebrated our daughter’s first birthday.  Such a milestone – for the baby and for the parents – as anyone who has kids can tell you that the first year is full of highs and lows.  You’re trying so hard to figure out what to do and all the while hoping you’re doing everything right.  But then you see this amazing, happy toddler (I don’t even get to call her a baby anymore!) and realize you barely remember the hard parts and all of the really fun and incredibly happy parts are what stick out.  At least that’s what it was like for me.  So we had pizza (her first time and she loved it) and cake (first time and she hated it – HA! Who hates cake??) and sang and clapped and made her giggle and it was the best day.

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I was so completely caught up in our little birthday bubble that I never watched the news or read anything online.  And then I heard that night about the horrors in Boston.  One of my favorite places on earth (second only to Paris, but how often does anyone really get to Paris?).  A town that I have such a personal connection to since I went to Holy Cross in Worcester, Mass and spent so many weekends in Boston over the years.  My best friends in the whole world are all from the Boston area.  One of the first dates my husband and I went on was to a Red Sox game, where we bought standing-room-only tickets outside of Fenway to watch them beat the Yankees (yes!), scoring amazing seats in the bleachers until the real ticket holders showed up in the 7th inning.  (WHO DOES THAT for a Sox/Yankees game?)

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I’ve been there on Marathon Monday.  I’ve been that person cheering on her best friend and thousands of other people she doesn’t even know.  Just because you’re proud of them and happy for them and, for me, because I know with complete certainty that there is no chance I’ll ever run a marathon and I think those people are so inspiring (running is not something I do well – maybe that’s why golf and I are so compatible).  And then something so awful happened that I get sick to my stomach – literally – every time I think about it.

I don’t talk about politics or religion on this blog, because I like to keep things light around here (there are plenty of places you can go to get the heavy stuff), but I pray for the victims and their families and for the city of Boston.  A city that has had a place in my heart for so long and will continue to forever.

And ever.

(If you want to help and show off your Boston love, pick up one of these shirts.  All net proceeds go to the Emergency Medicine Fund at Mass General, the hospital supporting patients and families affected by the tragedy.)

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