“Where are you from?”

“I live in Boston, but am from NY” is how I have answered that question for the past (did the math) 35% of my life, since moving to Boston, over 15 years ago. I have thought of the question many times, and remember thinking, even when I first moved here, “will I ever call myself a Bostonian and not a New Yorker? How long will I live here before I truly call it ‘where I’m from’, if ever?”

That question got answered for me last Monday, mid afternoon on a beautiful Monday afternoon. 15 years, 2 weeks, and 1 day after moving here.  I am now officially from Boston. 

The whole week, I was safe, free of harm, but still, it felt like I was in the middle of all of it, in lots of ways:

• I was at work, less than a half mile away from the finish line of the Boston Marathon, when I heard the explosions and our tall building shook. I could look out the window, see smoke and emergency vehicles, hear sirens everywhere (still hearing them now, days later, draws my attention in a way that hadn’t been done since September of 2001).
• My husband, also walking distance to the explosions, ended up having too much work to do, so he and his coworker decided not to walk to the finish line after lunch, after all.
• I learned by Monday night the fates of so many friends… one seriously injured, some immediate eyewitnesses and miraculously saved, many many near misses.
• On Friday morning, my day started at 5 am, helping to get people in touch with the management in our offices in Watertown, less than a half mile from the edge of the search perimeter, and, ultimately, less than a quarter of a mile from where the second suspect was captured.
• In my own office downtown Boston, on lockdown from 8 am, helping to man our own emergency operations center on our floor, staying connected with my company’s global operations center.
• Friday evening, trying to disconnect, but still having the news and a police scanner on, everything obviously unfolded from there.  Knowing that area well, having spent lots of time in that whole area, it’s even more surreal as you find yourself looking at all the streets and the stores and being able to put yourself right in there, with personal experience.

I know so many people have connections that are closer and more painful. I’m grateful not to be one of them. But I can’t deny that I’ve been impacted in a way that, right now, seems like it will be permanent, just as the impact on the city will be permanent.

It’s amazing what an unspeakable tragedy, followed by a manhunt, can do to a city, and then ultimately FOR a city. People have gained a new found respect for the police and law enforcement of all kind, the mayor, and the governor. For the first time, it’s not the Red Sox or the Bruins or the Patriots or the Celtics that get cheered and revered, it’s the people who keep us safe, and who help to find out who hurt us.

People seem nicer to and more understanding of each other. We have all been sharing our “where were you” and “did you know anyone” stories, and we all speculate what next year’s marathon will be like.  Some of us have already started to imagine what it’s going to be like in a few months, the next time you walk down the street or in the mall and  you see an amputee in a wheelchair or someone with scars and burns on their face and think, “Oh… I wonder if she was from the marathon…”

I know that, in the future, when people ask me where I’m from, and I tell them “I’m from Boston,” people’s first reaction for a long time is going to be rooted in their own memories of the marathon and the manhunt. But long after that stops being the first thing people think about (some day?) I will still say with pride, “I’m from Boston.”

So, on behalf of my fellow Bostonians, I want to thank the rest of the country and the world for the support and love and prayers you’ve sent our way this week.  Keep them coming, because we’re going to need it while the people of this city physically and emotionally heal.  But we’re strong, and we will heal. Just wait and see.