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It’s only been one month, but a sense of normalcy has returned to what was called the most complex crime scene in Boston’s history.

Outside the Boston Public Library, it’s lunchtime. And that means different things for different people: a quiet smoke, lining up to grab a bite at a food truck or just walking and enjoying the weather.

But you don’t have to look far for reminders of April 15. Sit in front of the library long enough and you’ll see people stopping to snap pictures of the marathon finish line. Or walk down to Copley Square and you’ll find the public memorials that now must share space with a farmers market.

Boston has indeed moved forward in such a short time, but how far and how much?

"I’m feeling alright, but it’s still kind of in my mind," said Roger Clark, a maintenance supervisor at the Boston Public Library. "And I feel sorry for the people that went through all this, the city as a whole."

When it comes to moving on, he says he believes it depends on the person and how they view that Monday in April.

"This area is still feeling the effects of it," he said. "There’s a lot of people that’s walking around, still in a daze, I believe. It’s just gonna take time for the people to go on about their lives, but it’s gonna effect people in the long run."

Clark’s outlook on grief would probably line up well with that of Rabbi Earl Grollman, a pioneer in crisis intervention who spent 36 years as rabbi of the Beth El Temple in Belmont.

"Healing is a process," Grollman said. "It’s not something that happens. It may be days, weeks, months, years where some people really feel – they’re not back to where they were. Each person will be at a different place. And when people say 'move on,' something has happened to you."

Grollman counseled victims and families in the wake of the Oklahoma City Bombing and 9/11 attacks. He says often people make the mistake of trying to put grieving into a series of stages.

"When we deal with it, we take each individual as he or she is, allow that person to grieve, because grief is an emotion; it’s not a disease," he said. "Grief is as natural as eating when you’re hungry, drinking when you’re thirsty and sleeping when you’re tired. Grief is nature’s way of healing a broken heart."

Rather than grief, anger is how Gary Soares describes his feelings one month later. Originally from Boston, Soares and his family moved to Florida over 20 years ago. This week is their first time back in their hometown since the bombings.

"I wanna know what’s going on with it, but like you said, it’s time to move on, you know," Soares said. "These people who got hurt, it’s gonna take them years to move on. I’m not the most religious guy, but I just pray for those people, you know. But the rest of us have to just move on and do whatever we can to help them."

Boylston Street isn’t the only place trying to move on.

For one day last month, the sounds of military helicopters in the sky were the norm in Watertown. But today, on Laurel Street at least, it’s birds chirping. Moving on is what a couple residents say they’re already doing, but particular reminders are still present.

"I think everybody’s trying to move on," said one resident, named Jean. "But like I said there’s somebody new down here, it seems. Some reporter. And I didn’t see much, so I haven’t been talking to any of them."

"We’re all aware of what happened, but when you come out in your yard or you’re talking to your neighbors, there’s people stopping in their cars and a number of reporters, said another resident, Christine.

Physically, there are still remnants on this stretch of Laurel of the battle between the Tsarnaev brothers and police.

Bullet holes are still left in Harry Ohannesian’s house. Ohannesian says some of his neighbors are still in shock, but adds that many are moving on in their own way.

"People seem more comfortable now," he said. "They were comfortable then too, but they’re more comfortable now than ever, I’d say. There’s no apprehensiveness here, you know. People just willing talk and, you know, some of it might be in a way a medication for them, you know, to talk, and that’s the right way to do it."

One thing Ohannesian and others want to do to move forward is throw a block party to get to know people in the neighborhood. But the get-together may also be a sign of another new normal after such events.

"It kind of makes sense," he said. "You really don’t know who’s here. I mean, it’s a multicultural town. You’ve got everybody moving in. There’s nothing wrong with that, but you know who the landlords are, you just don’t know who some of the tenants might be. You hate to think of it that way, but after this it sounds like a great idea."

Yet as April 15, 2013 grows older, Earl Grollman says the saving grace for some will be community.

"Mother’s Day – people can come and say, 'You know, I feel sorry for that mother,'" he said. "And I think these thoughts will creep into some of our minds. Other people will go along as if, you know, life hasn’t changed. But for some of us it will be a memory that will never leave us because we’re vulnerable, we’re no longer that secure and we realize that we need each other now more than other."