I lived in Boston for about six years. It was a love hate relationship. Over those years I grew to appreciate the city, it's crusty citizens and of course it's mad sports teams. We parted on good terms.
Yesterday, my heart was broken by the senseless violence experienced by the people of my second home town. Fury, helplessness, loss and complete confusion as to who would do such a thing, and why... these emotions and questions cycled through me all afternoon and evening. It is difficult to accept that there are completely unfathomable things that happen in this world. There are things that make no sense to any sane mind. And torturing ourselves with questions of "Why? Why? Why?" sent out into the universe without hope of ever getting an answer makes the experience even more disheartening.
It seems the lesson I've been trying to learn for the last few months is this: Sometimes, there are no answers. Sometimes no one will give you a reason for their actions and you're left with having to chose to either torture yourself with continual doubt and questioning, or to shrug and walk on with the knowledge that sometimes it's NOT about you, it's completely and utterly someone else's problem.
Today, I'm haunted by memories of 9/11. This unsettled feeling is, sadly, all too familiar.
