Friends of "Jahar" Tsarnaev struggle in the aftermath of the marathon bombings
Stop, I think to myself, and imagine what it will be like to look back on this lazy, quiet day, things are settling down.
But the quietude belies the unsettled feeling, dredged up by a common desire to return to a normalcy that may never come back. The normalcy of yesterday has become the new normal of today: people lying in hospital beds with limbs blown off, families grieving for their loved ones, and people who are outwardly unscathed jumping whenever they hear a loud noise.
And then there are the overlooked ones, the children, the youth, who will live with the vision of a friend--a sweet, popular, loved-by-all boy--who betrayed them all by becoming their worst fear. "I want him to live, I want to know why," they are saying to no answer. "I don't care what people think, he was my close friend" they say while looking at the empty space where he used to stand.
They have had to stop and think on this lazy, quiet day, and stare at the reflection of what and who they used to be, and learn how not to say why because, for them, there may never be an answer.