The trauma of Monday is on all of our minds. We're thinking about it and trying to rationalize it. We're wondering what would have happened to our friends who might have ran the last mile just a little bit faster or stood just a little bit closer to the finish line. We're wondering why we got so lucky.
While three Jumbos were hospitalized, they sustained non-life-threatening injuries. We are praying for these Jumbos and their quick recovery, and we are also saying a prayer of thanks that they are alive and that they can come home to us.
As a community, how do we move on from this? Boston is our home and our livelihood. We feel violated by this tragedy. Home is a place that is supposed to be safe, welcoming and joyful. But yesterday was none of that. It was terrifying. Our innocence has been ripped from us, and we are left trying to put the pieces back together.
Despite our struggle, it is in light of this tragedy that we are reminded of the very reasons why we call this city home. The warm summer nights at Fenway, the picnics in the Commons, the unmatchable charm of the North End and, of course, the quarter of a million college students who share this home along with us.
Today, I am comforted by only one thing. In the midst of this tragedy, Jumbos came together for each other and for Boston. We all worked together to find every last Jumbo runner and Jumbo spectator. Jumbos helped each other, supported each other and embraced each other. In the face of an act that was meant to cause chaos and abandonment, we came to the aid of each other systematically and compassionately.
When safety breaks down - when order breaks down - and our every day life breaks down in the chaos of an unspeakable act, our community stands as the sole entity in our lives that refuses to break down. Rather, it stands strong with the resolve that every last Jumbo will be accounted for. Will be cared for. Will be safe.
Because whichever person or group did this willed Bostonians to feel alone, unsafe and uncared for. And we refuse to accept this. We banded together. We swore to ourselves that in the face of adversity we would find each other and help each other and save each other. The marathon runners who ran the extra mile to MGH to give blood, the civilians that helped break down the barricades, and the medical and safety personnel that sprung into action proves this to be true.
The person or people responsible for this wanted us to cave under the pressure of terror. But we will not. We will rise up on the support of our community. We have, and will, act in humility and kindness, in spite of those who wished we would act in selfishness and fear. We stand here today above the cruelty of terrorism, above the cruelty of hate, because we have chosen to fight with love. With community.
In his address to the nation, President Obama said, "Bostonians will pull together, take care of each other, and move forward as one proud city." And no words have ever been truer.
Indeed, life will continue on for us in Boston, carefully accepting normalcy as we tiptoe back into our everyday routines. But we won't be the same and we will never forget.
But we will also never forget the community that rose up in solidarity to bring us solace and peace. And on Monday we learned that without a shadow of a doubt, our community is more powerful than terror. Amid our grief, this fact cannot be taken away from us.
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Alexa Petersen is a senior majoring in political science and peace and justice studies. She can be reached at Alexa.Petersen@tufts.edu.
