Lock the front door

I just closed and locked my front door for the evening. Seems normal enough.

I turned and looked back at my kids, thankfully so oblivious to the panic I feel. There is a terrorist roaming around my area of the world. I am not so naive to think that there aren’t more or that they haven’t been there before. But now, I KNOW IT. I know he’s out there somewhere despite our local and national law enforcement’s best efforts.

My city is on lockdown. We’ve been asked to stay indoors. My city isn’t even the one where they are actively looking for this scourge on humanity. It’s a town over. My friend lives there, with her lovely boys. I am sure that her door has been locked all day. I am sure she has been nervously peering out her windows wondering if evil would visit her house in his attempt to flee authorities.

A man and his brother blew up the finish line of the Boston Marathon on Monday. It’s why I went quiet here after saying I was back from my self imposed quiet last week. I have posts about potty training, chick peas, and bowling set to go. But I can’t get my head around what has happened to my hometown, my state. I have lived in Massachusetts for my whole life except for prolonged travelling stints. I have always come home.

Home has been in  Holliston, Amherst, Watertown, Stockbridge, Belmont, Boston & Newton. Someone bombed my home. They killed my neighbors, hurt my friends, and sacred the hell out of all of us.

My friend was running the marathon. The first bomb went off literally as they put the medal around her neck. It was a frantic and breath holding 10minutes before we knew what happened to her and her family.

Every single person I know has a story about Monday, and how it touched them or someone they love.

I don’t have more to say about it right now. I’m just a little sad and a little scared is all. I hope you all are doing well.


Aaron Bouvier Design #Boston

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