Daffodils in Remembrance
beside the lake, beneath the trees,
fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
All throughout the afternoon, students in Harvard Yard carried pots of daffodils wrapped in yellow paper. Daffodils are springtime to me, and amidst a really drizzly day, with memories of so much fear, heartache and sadness, the little patches of sunny yellow were the flower equivalent of a comfort dog. Sometimes, tragedy strikes. It is human for me to still feel anger and frustration at God, at People, at the Universe, that such an event should happen. But, on that day, (and on this), there were little patches of redemption in the running to help, to comfort, to save.
I'm not one to love marathons. However, it's been a year since the Boston Marathon bombing. I talked about the resilient spirit of Boston (here), the emotional upheaval when a TV series becomes real life (here) and finally, how love is always the road to recovery (here).
#BostonStrong: Today, I have been seeing messages and reminders and victims' stories of survival and hope. It's in my facebook, twitter, and google feeds. Part of me remembers that day and part of me just goes forward - the same way I worked a year ago, far from the finish line, in my lab sheltered safe from the goings on downtown. It's only as I write, that I actually have to think about it, that I remember what it was like. I remember the openness and resiliency despite feeling vulnerable in the people I commuted with in the following week. I remember the love from friends and family that made sure I was ok and the gratitude I felt in responding that I was safe. Spring is here in Boston. Renewal, restoration, hope. There will always be people who try to ruin that. There is a part of me that wonders about what that day and the next week will hold. Will the marathon go on without a hitch? Will everyone feel better and continue to heal?
I hope so. Of course I want to say that one becomes stronger, that one is more self-aware of inner virtues and courage when faced with misfortune. I think that this is true of Boston, I think that in most cases this has been true for me. I am inspired by the stories of the survivors and although, I am not one to ever run a marathon, I will cheer for their success and for a continued restoration and recovery for all those affected by the tragedies that sometimes fill our lives. In a way, Boston's story is the story of all of us, and as a city, it taught me how to respond with love in the face of fear and ultimately, how to heal.
and then my heart with pleasure fills,
and dances with the daffodils.
fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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| My Favorite Flowers... by {Sonia} / © All rights reserved |
All throughout the afternoon, students in Harvard Yard carried pots of daffodils wrapped in yellow paper. Daffodils are springtime to me, and amidst a really drizzly day, with memories of so much fear, heartache and sadness, the little patches of sunny yellow were the flower equivalent of a comfort dog. Sometimes, tragedy strikes. It is human for me to still feel anger and frustration at God, at People, at the Universe, that such an event should happen. But, on that day, (and on this), there were little patches of redemption in the running to help, to comfort, to save.
I'm not one to love marathons. However, it's been a year since the Boston Marathon bombing. I talked about the resilient spirit of Boston (here), the emotional upheaval when a TV series becomes real life (here) and finally, how love is always the road to recovery (here).
#BostonStrong: Today, I have been seeing messages and reminders and victims' stories of survival and hope. It's in my facebook, twitter, and google feeds. Part of me remembers that day and part of me just goes forward - the same way I worked a year ago, far from the finish line, in my lab sheltered safe from the goings on downtown. It's only as I write, that I actually have to think about it, that I remember what it was like. I remember the openness and resiliency despite feeling vulnerable in the people I commuted with in the following week. I remember the love from friends and family that made sure I was ok and the gratitude I felt in responding that I was safe. Spring is here in Boston. Renewal, restoration, hope. There will always be people who try to ruin that. There is a part of me that wonders about what that day and the next week will hold. Will the marathon go on without a hitch? Will everyone feel better and continue to heal?
I hope so. Of course I want to say that one becomes stronger, that one is more self-aware of inner virtues and courage when faced with misfortune. I think that this is true of Boston, I think that in most cases this has been true for me. I am inspired by the stories of the survivors and although, I am not one to ever run a marathon, I will cheer for their success and for a continued restoration and recovery for all those affected by the tragedies that sometimes fill our lives. In a way, Boston's story is the story of all of us, and as a city, it taught me how to respond with love in the face of fear and ultimately, how to heal.
and then my heart with pleasure fills,
and dances with the daffodils.
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