Boston

When I was looking at colleges, I had one main criteria: Boston. I spent four amazing years there and it still feels more like home than NYC ever will even seven years later. I visited Boston several times a year when I was growing up, and am an avid Red Sox fan. Boston is a part of me. And so my heart breaks over yesterday's events.

Marathon Monday was a highlight of the year during my time at Boston College. Students would line Heartbreak Hill, cheering on friends and complete strangers alike. We'd be drinking and eating junk, but our enthusiasm was pure energy. Every year on Marathon Monday, I get a little nostalgic and wish I were there, cheering on the runners, and never more so than yesterday. And if I can swing it, I want to take the day off work next year and go to Heartbreak Hill to stand with today's students and with the city of Boston to say "We are still here." I really want to.

You don't mess with Boston.

The actions of first responders who ran into the blast zone without a second thought, of marathoners who ran to donate blood, of everyday people who turned from spectators into rescuers in an instant, and of residents and business owners who opened their homes and restaurants to make sure that the runners had a place to rest and recover from their grueling run when they weren't allowed to return to their hotels make me so, so proud of my favorite city in the world.

As Mr. Rogers said, "Look for the helpers." No matter what happens, the good guys still outnumber the bad ones, and that is something to be thankful for.

Hang in there, Boston.