Monday is the day I usually meet up with my three sisters and my two cousins and I drive us aimlessly around the metro area in my sister’s big Jeep, looking out the windows and telling each other all the same old stories. It’s a retiree thing and a pleasant way to spend an afternoon.

Yesterday, Patriot’s Day here in Massachusetts, we were touring Marina Bay, looking for a restaurant for an appropriately early dinner, when we saw smoke across the harbor at the JFK Library. We sped over there to catch the action and, on the way, my iPhone began receiving news notifications about the Marathon bombs.

Several of us had kids and/or grand-kids downtown for work, the race or the Sox game so we parked and tracked them all down by text. My son was at Kenmore Square after the game and my daughter was at work across the river. Her boyfriend works at the Prudential Center, just across the street from the first bomb. He heard the noise, saw the commotion and eventually was able to walk to their apartment in Cambridge.

End result: we and all our offspring were safe.

Everyone wasn’t so lucky. The 8 year old boy who was killed lived around the corner from my son in Ashmont. His Mom and sister were both grievously injured. Two others have died so far and about 15 more are in grave danger. It’s certainly hard to think of all these innocents and how their enjoyment of this most pleasant of Boston traditions was so brutally ended.

It looks like a terrorist act and the early evidence points to a domestic source. Patriot’s Day week is when the Oklahoma City bombing, the Virginia Tech shootings, Columbine, the Waco Texas standoff and some other US based attacks occurred. I have no doubt that this will be solved, the government can’t afford not to. I only hope that this doesn’t permanently ruin what is usually a beautiful day for Boston and the first real day of Spring here.

A sad beginning.