April 15, 2013 started out as a beautiful spring day in Boston. It was Patriots Day, a local holiday and a day reserved for the world’s oldest marathon. I was at my mom’s house, an hour away from the finish line, when a friend messaged me about explosions. The message came with a link to a local news station. I turned on the tv and sent the link to another friend in California. “One of the reports says two explosions,”
my friend would respond. “If that’s correct, it’s definitely an attack.”
A Journal of Community-Engaged Writing and Rhetoric