At 2:45 yesterday, I was talking to a marathon race finisher. Where was his next epic adventure going to be? Where did he want to travel? What did he want to do? Who did he want to see? “Life is so short,” I told him. He laughingly wrote his answer on the dry erase board, posed smiling with his mom + dad + sister, and we took his picture.

And then the positive, happy energy of Boston disappeared. Just like that. Sucked up into the sky. In an instant.

Silence. Sirens, running firefighters, racing police cars. The smell of fire in the air, heartsick + raw emotion, fear.

So much fear.

Calls + texts + emails + Facebook posts + tweets + communication to and from the ones we love.

Tears.

I woke up this morning + the tears started all over again. How could someone do this? What if I weren’t here anymore? What if the little girl and the family I served lunch to on Saturday who were in Boston for the race were hurt? What if someone I loved had been hurt? What if I had died on my sister’s birthday?

I could have stayed in bed all morning feeling helpless, letting my brain bombard me w all of the “what ifs” and “whys.” Instead, I ran to the ocean.

Salt water, tears, fresh air, rising sunshine.

Hope.

The tears flowed, my heart pounded, + I prayed. For the families, for the firefighters + police, for Boston, for my family + friends, for the sick people who did this, for myself.

It would be easy to let anger take over our souls. To think that the world is so bad + that we can never feel safe anymore. To blame cultures different from ours or point ignorant fingers or spread messages of hatred.

But as a society, I think that we’re better than that. Instead of angry rants, we’re going to spread messages of LOVE + HOPE. We’re going to believe that good exists. We’re going to say “I love you” to those that matter most + give more hugs + reflect on our lives + think about how we can add more GOOD to the world.

We’re strong. Boston is strong.