Truth be told, I hate April 15 with a passion. Mostly because I’m a procrastinator. In fact, right now, I’m struggling to get my extension filed, since things changed this year and we are going to need all the deductions I can pull out of my… pocket.
And just as I start writing to whine about my own life, news of the explosions at the Boston Marathon rocks the Twitterstream. Two explosions have gone off at the finish line of the Boston Marathon, and police have found a third suspicious incendiary package. Everything is still unfolding right now, panic and chaos everywhere, and I flash back to New York City and the World Trade towers. We have no idea how far this will go, how many more devices they will find. Dead phones. Injured runners. Scared onlookers, all trying to make cover. My heart pounds furiously as I watch people urgently tweeting for responses from friends and loved ones. I can’t even begin to tell you how horror stricken I am at this news. I started to tweet, “Why the HELL would somebody do this?” but then I realize that our post 9/11 world is now like everyone else’s world, where targets are chosen to cause the most destruction and loss of lives. It’s such a cold, calculating consideration, and I cannot fathom the mind that works this way. It’s so difficult to witness the devastation, the lives that have been lost or changed forever. And once again, I watch the EMTs, the police, the firefighters and first responders working with people, helping the wounded, clearing the area, and I thank God for them. That they are there. That they do the jobs they do. As Fred Rogers said, “Watch the helpers.”
And suddenly, my life is put back in perspective, and I realize that some things are far more taxing.
Pray for Boston.