My heart is so heavy today.
Another, another tragedy has rocked our country. Innocent people dead, lives
gone, families and friends torn apart. I grieve.
Peter Gabriel's elegiac "I Grieve" - I've been hearing this song in my head all evening
Towards the end of my sophomore
year, I decided I wanted to spend the summer in Boston.
I applied for several jobs, and I got an interview at the New England Aquarium.
It was my first trip to the city. One of my high school friends was attending
Boston University, and he gave me almost step-by-step directions to get from
the NEAq to meet him in Copley Plaza. He described the glass walkway over the
street, the “waterfall inside the lobby” of the hotel, maybe a Westin at that
time, relieving my nervousness of navigating the mysterious public transportation
and the crowded, rushing city streets.
I took Amtrak up to Boston, made
my way to Faneuil Hall and the NEAq, absorbing every fascinating sight along
the way. Afterwards, I faithfully followed Mark’s directions, and they led me
right to his big smile and welcoming hug. Oh yeah, I got the job.
I spent the first two weeks of
the summer camped on Mark’s couch, working at the NEAq during the day, then
hanging out at the Huntington Theater as they prepared for their summer run.
The play was On the Verge; or, The
Geography of Yearning, by Eric Overmyer. A cast of three women and one man
in several roles. They were hilarious and fractious and marvelous. I adored it
all.
Meanwhile, I was learning to
navigate the “T” by myself, and I loved my morning stroll through Faneuil Hall.
I found a sublet in Alston, 1 block off Comm Ave, in a 2nd story
apartment with a huge bay window in the living room, and two flatmates I hardly
saw all summer.
I loved walking in Boston. I
loved everything. The T, the Commons, the Park, Newberry Street, the Ben &
Jerry’s at Kenmore Square, where they let the crazy lady sit and have water as
long as she didn’t start harassing the customers. I loved walking down the
Esplanade on the weekends, a three-mile hike each way. I’ve never walked as
much in my life as I did in Boston.
I spent hours wandering the
Isabella Gardner museum and the MFA. I went with friends to concerts on the
Esplanade at the Half Shell. I plundered the used record shops and book stores.
I bought over 40 albums, yes, vinyl, that summer. I had a favorite place for
calzones and a favorite place for fried rice and dumplings. I felt like a
local. It felt like home.
After graduation, I spent another 15 months in Boston, reliving many of these experiences, locations, walks. One of many highlights was a historic society-led walking tour of Back Bay, which I can still largely recite from memory to this day. Purple glass panes and one-story houses to protect long-hidden views.
Years later, I came to doubt my
memories, based on other city experiences. I was disappointed by other places
that people assured me I would love. They were fine, no doubt, but I didn’t
have that feeling of immediate connection, of real love that I felt for Boston.
I thought I must be remembering that first day, those first experiences through
rose-colored glasses.
Then, one day, it happened again.
I was in a new city, and I felt that same instant connection, that sense of
almost knowing the geography before I even looked at the map to find my way
around, that indescribable feeling, almost like falling in love.
And part of my joy was realizing
that yes, I had felt that way about
Boston on the very first day. No matter how rarely I visit or whether I ever live there again. No matter how it has changed. I still hold Boston dear in my heart. My
first city love.
Dogs in house:
|
Houdini
|
Music:
|
Peter Gabriel, I Grieve
|
Time writing:
|
~40 minutes
|
April word count:
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13,593
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