Going back to move on from the horror of the Boston bombings

IN those last few moments before two homemade bombs exploded near the finish line of the Boston Marathon, spraying nails, ball bearings and shrapnel into the crowd, Erika Brannock, now 30, stood in her skinny jeans, green sneakers and Baltimore Ravens T-shirt, waiting for her mom to run by.
Erika, a preschool teacher, had never been to Boston before, and she was enjoying the electrifying atmosphere of the race, and the boisterous shouts of support from onlookers directed at complete strangers.