I wasn’t sure that I wanted to blog about Boston. In some ways I feel like everything has been said. All the emotions have been out there and now it’s time to move on. But in other ways, it felt wrong to blog about anything else today. It felt like to do so, would negate all that this country went through last week.

I couldn’t quite decide what to do. Sometimes when I’m stuck, I will look through magazines for motivation. I will choose one word, a phrase, a picture and just write whatever comes to mind. Today, the word above jumped out at me.

Lucky.

After last week, I think we have been forced to feel lucky.

Some for being in the right place at the right time. Some for running too slow or too fast. Some for missing the train. Some for fighting with a friend and deciding not to watch their race. Then there are those of us who feel lucky to not have been in Boston at all. And those of us who are glad to not be lying in a hospital bed wondering how we will do our favorite things with one or even two less limbs.

Because the hospitalized victims feel lucky I am sure when they look at the big picture. But don’t they feel unlucky too? If they are honest with themselves, how can they not?

And the Bostonians who feel lucky to have not been at the marathon but then terribly unlucky to have been locked in their houses all day on Friday. How are you not traumatized by that? By explaining to your children what those loud noises are. By telling them that they can’t go outside because the bad guy, that you always insisted isn’t real, really is. And he might be in your back yard. And he might have a gun or a bomb.

I feel lucky to have been removed. To have watched from afar. To listen and learn and grow.

Lucky to watch the man in the cowboy hat run to the aid of a man covered in blood. Not because it was his job but because it’s what loving people do.

Lucky to listen to the mother of two sons, each of whom lost a leg, who said not that her life ended on that day but that it began.

Lucky to watch the Yankees celebrate the Red Sox, their rivals, with banners, with words, with song.

Lucky to read Facebook posts from around the country and around the world reminding us that last week, we were all Bostonians.

Lucky to read the wise words of my friend Lindsey, writing from Cambridge, as she ‘sheltered in place’ on Friday. This phrase none of us knew before that day that is now a part of our vocabulary.

Lucky to watch the people of Watertown line the streets cheering and waving flags as the first responders finally pulled out of their town, victorious, on Friday night.

Last week was about Boston, yes. But it also wasn’t.

This was about people. The evil that resides in some people but more importantly it was about the boundless good that lives in the rest of us.

Let us not forgot how lucky we are to know that.