Recollections of the 2013 Boston Marathon Bombing

“Breaking News. The Boston Marathon was just bombed. We are unsure if there are any casualties, but there are multiple reported injuries.”
It was a warm summer’s day in 2013. The birds were chirping, the wind was whistling, and I was waiting for the Red Sox game to start. I had no reason to think anything special about that day. It was like every other day that summer. At least that was what I had thought.
I was leaning on the couch and my dad and his girlfriend, Julie, were in the kitchen. I turned on the TV and I heard the last thing I thought I would ever hear, that the marathon had been bombed.
“Wait, what?” I asked no one in particular.
My dad had heard the TV and quickly ran in, “I don’t know.” My Dad slowly responded.
At first I

It had to be fictional, or some kind of a joke, or prank, right?
Sadly, I was mistaken. I soon realized that it was not fake news, but a horrible truth. The Boston Marathon was actually bombed. I, along with my dad and Julie, was shell shocked. I felt awful, absolutely ill. It felt like someone had just punched me in the gut. I didn’t know what to say, so I just stood there Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long before hearing the words that just about summed it up.
Before the Red Sox game, that same day, David Ortiz gave a famous speech. He said, “This is our ******* city. And nobody’s going to dictate our freedom. Stay strong.”
I wasn’t sure how Boston would respond to the bombing but over the days that followed, but we came together and worked to help those who were affected by the bombing. All over the news there were stories of heroes saving people’s lives. This awful event that hurt so many also sparked kindness, love, and strength. I soon realized that we, as a city, as a state, and as a county, would never give up no matter what.
I wanted to help that summer, but I was only nine years old. I

Then, I realized what I could do. That night I told my mom, “I am going to have a lemonade stand tomorrow, and the money I raised will go to One Fund for the victims of the marathon bombing.”
“Okay,” she responded, “that sounds like an amazing idea.”
The next morning it was hot, perfect for lemonade. I went outside around ten o’clock and set up the table and the signs. The lemonade 50¢ a cup. I had done lemonade stands in the past and had made pretty good money. It started off slow so I tried the lemonade, just to be sure it tasted good. It was cold, refreshing and sweet, possibly the best lemonade I ever had. Eh, maybe not the best, but that was what I would be telling customers. Soon, people started heading for the beach and I was right on their path. “Would you like some lemonade?” I asked anyone who walked by, “it’s only 50¢ and all profits go to the One Fund.”
As soon as they heard that it was for charity they were all for it. “I will take one,” said one woman handing me a dollar, “and keep the