Home is where the Heart is.

Facebook.  I'm grateful for it.  This isn't just so that I can satisfy random spikes of curiosity about that kid I went to elementary school with and haven't talked to in 12 years, or for sending funny videos about an adorable slow loris or serious videos promoting girls' right to education, or expressing outrage at Congress when they try and control my body and how I care for it through proposed laws.  It isn't even because Facebook gives me a place to post music quotes that apply directly to my life that no one gives a shit about, or because I can share photos of my Peace Corps experience and keep in touch with those friends and family from home who seem incapable of writing letters for whatever reason (that is not all inclusive of all my friends and family, just to be clear).  I'm grateful for Facebook for those days when I open it up and find out about things going on at home that I wouldn't have known about otherwise.  It keeps me in the loop.

Tuesday afternoon I went to an internet cafe expecting to check my email and browse around on Facebook.  When the page loaded, I was blasted with "Stay safe, Boston" and some of my best friends posting things like, "I'm ok, I'm safe, just shaken."  "I can't believe this happened." Panic. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED IN BOSTON???!!!  I pulled up another browser window and typed Boston into Google search with my heart bumping around frantically against my ribs.  I started running through all the names of people I know in Boston while the page loaded painfully slowly.

"BOSTON MARATHON BOMBING"
....
....
WHAT?

I started pulling up news story after news story simultaneously checking facebook pages of people I know in Boston to see if they'd put up updates.  I sat in my internet carrel my head in my hand reading the horrifying reports of what had happened in Boston.  I'm from New Hampshire, and we technically have our own cities, but I've always thought of Boston as my city.  So many friends from high school relocated there after college, my brother lived there for a while, my aunt and her family have always lived there.  My first boyfriend was from Boston.  Boston is my city.

It is really hard to explain the strangeness of watching your home get attacked and being so far away.  When I heard about the North and South Korea conflict and our role in it from my Peruvian host brother (that was a little embarrassing), it felt different, still strange, but didn't leave me feeling quite so helpless.  Knowing that I have friends and family who are currently shut up in their houses with their doors locked and a bomber running around evading the FBI and SWAT teams, hijacking cars and murdering people leaves me with a strangled feeling.  I know I would probably feel just as helpless if I was at my mother's house and this was happening in Boston, but for whatever reason it feels worse being so far away.  I want to at least be able to pick up my phone and call my friends, support them somehow, and instead I am so far away, so far away from home.  I guess this is sort of what it feels like for a mother trapped at work who knows that their kid is in the hospital.  She can't do anything about it but she is panic stricken and feels like she is not where she needs to be, that she is falling short in her duty.

It just serves as a strong reminder that my home will always be in the US, that my heart is there with my family and friends, and it is pulling at that empty spot in my chest right now.  I'm sorry I can't be there with you all, but I love you.