Wednesday, April 17, 2013

I'm gonna tell you a story, I'm gonna tell you about my town

When I applied to college, I applied to five schools. Four were in Massachusetts; two were in Boston. I went to school in Boston. When I graduated, I stayed. When I moved away, I came back. You could argue that I never really left.

My life-changing and life-defining experiences have all been here. I’ve fallen in love here. I broke an ankle and had my heart broken here. My first job, my first apartment, and my first race were here. I ran the Boston Marathon, one half marathon, three 10Ks, and two five mile races here. I learned to run here. I learned who I am and who I want to be here.

I love everything that Dennis Lehane ever wrote. I love every dumb impersonation of a Boston accent. I love the way the sun rises over Rowes’ Wharf and the way the sun sets over the Charles River.

Every time I drive into Boston from the north, south, east, or west, my heart is full. Every time my train pulls into South Station or my plane lands at Logan, my heart is full. A warm summer night in the stands at Fenway or a walk through Faneuil Hall on a winter’s afternoon so cold that my cheekbones hurt…. My heart is full.

I called M after the bombings. I wept. I don’t remember much of our conversation. But I will forever remember one thing M said: “Oh, your beautiful city.” Boston is my beautiful city. And my heart couldn’t hold all of the hurt that I felt and still feel.

Some people have a high school sweetheart, that perfect first love that never went away. I have Boston.

This is all to say: Don’t screw with my town.

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