Boston, MA

While I have been to Boston many times, I was glad to return to this familiar city during my trip because I have so many ties here. Between friends from Exeter, Wesleyan and home in California, family, and former coworkers, I had plenty of people to visit and keep me entertained. Or so I thought. When I called all of the aforementioned people, I found out that over eight of the people I wanted to see were leaving for the weekend or longer, meaning I would not be able to see them at all. I had expected that the summer months would lead a few of them to vacation destinations, but somehow Jupiter's shadow was perfectly aligned with the orbit of the moon which reflected certain solar flares causing the highly implausible exodus of all of these people. I was sad that I was going to miss, the opportunity to reconnect with many old friends, but not all of them were gone. Their absence also gave me a chance to rest and recuperate from the long journey.

I stayed at my grandparents house for the majority of my time in Boston. They are always extremely welcoming and happy to have me in their home. When I spend time with them I am incorporated into their various daily rituals. Each morning I am invited to mass which I respectfully decline. I sat at the dining room table with them, everyone pausing the chaos of their individual lives to commune with the family over a home cooked meal. I became a regular participant in the post mealtime games of farkle, five crowns, or dominoes. When I'm not visiting, they often determine who will do the dishes by playing a game after eating. However, in certain circumstances, my grandfather complains of being too tired even after he has lost, and shirks his dish duty. During the day, I listened to crescendos of my grandmothers flute as she practiced for her upcoming band camp at Mount Holyoke. At night, I tucked myself in early to be well rested for the next day. It was a simple life and simply put I thoroughly enjoyed.

My first two nights in Boston, I reunited with my old Exeter friend Lacie and my old residential life boss Alex. After attending Boston College for her undergraduate years, Lacie moved into an apartment in the city and has since become such a fan of beantown that she gives walking tours in her spare time on a volunteer basis. One year after I graduated, Alex had left Wesleyan to become a residential director at Dean College just outside of Boston. While moving from Middletown, CT had brightened his social life, he was finding the social justice agenda at Dean less than impressive. With both Lacie and Alex I recalled old stories from our time together and was reminded of others I had forgotten. 

One of the people I was most excited to see, my friend Liana, had such a busy schedule which included a weekend trip to the Hamptons, that I only managed to spend a grand total of fifty minutes with her the two times we met. She stopped by my grandparents house for a quick glass of wine for about half an hour where I caught the coarse details of her current life. I learned that she had received a scholarship to attend a school of public health in London for next year, but the offer had been rescinded because of the an accounting mistake made on the part of the offering foundation. The second time, I picked her up from the Boston public library only to realize that I would have to leave twenty minutes later to be on time for a family dinner at my aunt and uncle's house in Belmont. We ended up just parking the car in Southie and talking for a little while. She told me that there might still be hope of receiving the scholarship because the foundation had been digging around in other funds to rectify their previous mistake. I said goodbye after our short second rendezvous and wished her good luck with the scholarship and the coming year.

When I arrived in Belmont, dinner preparations were in full swing. I caught up with my uncle Pierre and my cousins Zoe and Esme. I heard about their recent travels in Europe and their plans for the summer. A good glass of wine, a simple yet very satisfying dinner, and the love and company of my family were all I needed to feel happy. I'm sad that I don't get to spend more of my evenings in the same fashion.

The next day, I woke up next to a note from my uncle Pierre. I had said the previous night that I would wake up early to say goodbye to him, but according to him I had been so sound asleep, cuddling with one of stuffed animals from my cousin's bed, that he didn't want to wake me up. I had lunch with Esme and during our conversation she mentioned that she wanted to learn to drive stick shift. I happened to have both a manual car and the extra time for a little lesson, so we headed to a nearby parking lot and pulled a Chinese fire drill. With a quick verbal walkthrough of the mechanics of a manual car, Esme successfully shifted into first gear her very first try. She proved to be a natural even on Roy who can be somewhat temperamental with a short engagement point. Starting the car while facing uphill ended with a few burnt clutch attempts, but all-in-all, Esme was an extremely quick learner and I think she'll be driving Lamborghinis in no time.