Clusters of people – – clusters of buildings. I am home in the city, and everywhere else. Boston: A place where educated meets liberal. Just how it should be —the prefect cup of tea with just the right amount of honey.
I booked an apartment in the center of the city: Chinatown. A nice swanky apartment in middle of the chaos, pho restaurants, strip clubs, broadway plays and liquor stores. During the day my son and I dug the culture while my husband worked at the tallest building in the city. All I had to do was look toward the Prudential, and there he was.
We almost missed the plane. Almost.
From the metal tube in the sky, houses represent tiny block doll houses. My son and I arrived in Boston at 8 a.m. on four hours of sleep just in time to watch everyone scurry to work. The city was bustling and so was I.
After exiting the tunnel we entered an already awake city where people seemed to walk up hills of dirty snow, steam rising off their warm suited bodies. The bundled up leader stands in front of a crowd waiting to cross the street, briefcase in hand waiting in anticipation to cross the busy street. The people are reminiscent of the buildings that surround them: tall, muted and beautiful.
I entered the building just as my husband – dressed to the nines – was on his way to work. He had been living in Boston most of the month and fell in love with the city. It’s hard not to.
That night we went to the Celtics game, the T dropped us off right at the Garden. Rick had gotten us front row tickets and Celtics shirts – the energy in the arena was intense. Everyone assumed we were locals as we made friends with two rows, giving high fives and chatting it up. One thing about Bostonians, they aren’t bad-looking.
Hands-down, best basketball game I had ever been to. My son is now a self-proclaimed Celtics fan. I applaud his independence.
After the game we stopped for soup pots in Chinatown. Ever since, I’ve had a crazy urge to hop a plane to Boston just slurp one down.
The next morning, I cooked a big breakfast for my husband and his partner before they headed off to work.
We met Auntie D, a Radcliffe and Harvard graduate who never left, at the Top of the Hub where we chatted about the stock market and chomped on Lobster rolls all in front of a breathtaking view of the city. There is no better view of the city.
At night we ate pho as the underground subway rumbled beneath our feet. I feel asleep with my shades pulled open as the city hovered over me like a bright lit blanket that lulled me to sleep.
Aunt D took us to Cambridge for lunch and gave us the tour of Boston and Cambridge…again. I didn’t mind since it had been almost 10 years since I had been back.
For Hayes, the Museum of Science, the Lego Factory and the Children’s Museum.
In the darkness we invaded The T acting like we owned the city. Glanced at strangers. Ran through the tunnels. Made friends with people we would never see again. Lost Hayes’ glove. In the Boston tunnels there are students everywhere – the air is full of young minds, powerful ideas and the aroma of determined youth who are definitely smart enough to change the world.
We rode to Harvard Square and ate at Jackie Onassis’ favorite restaurant, Harvest. The restaurant was tucked away in alley, warm and intimate. We sat by two ladies who crushed over pricey wine and talked about their many visits to Europe, especially France, which half of their conversation was in. We extended the merriment by drinking nitecaps in the Theater District.
Rainy-day-three led us to Faneuil Marketplace for Ramon. Drunk college kids in tank tops and shorts walked by berms piled up on the busy sidewalk around the marketplace. Lines of people dressed in green wrapped around buildings in honor of St. Patrick’s day. We grabbed a beer at Cheers.
I bought a Buddha statue that Hayes insisted I take home, and we crushed on seafood through glass.
We spent the last day eating oysters and mussels at the Union Oyster House before we blasted off in a snowstorm.
Until we meet again Boston – I’ll think of you often.