From N.Y. to Boston, haunted by memories

Having grown up near New York City, and having since found a home near Boston, I was struck by the observation that both cities were attacked through the thing that defines them.

Growing up, I felt a surge of pride every time I walked past the immense, iconic twin towers of the World Trade Center. New York City is big, brash, and full of life. You get a sense that anything can happen.

As Bostonians, we move in our own world, enjoying our own traditions. We consider the streets and the city to be like precious gems in a jewelry box, and we don’t care too much who else knows it. We know it, and that’s enough.


I have felt a surge of pride every time I have enjoyed the traditions of Patriots Day — the reenactment of Paul Revere’s ride and the battle of Lexington and Concord, the Boston Marathon, and the Red Sox at Fenway Park. You get a sense that anything can happen.

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Once the heart has a hole in it, it is there. How we try to fill it back up again is up to each of us, and it is a very personal process. But it won’t happen any time soon, if ever. I can tell you that from experience.

Katie M. Griffin