Not all weekends spent in Boston are riotous fun-filled events – some are quieter and more somber – a sobering reminder at a time when people have lost loved ones. As I get older, that happens more and more, and at such times Boston becomes more of a place of refuge and comfort than an exciting destination. So it was that I found myself in town a few days ago, while Kira and her family were honoring their sister, and I made my way in solitude through my favorite haunts, finding solace in beauty, and calm amid the quiet.
A beautiful spell of fall weather – warm and sunny with just the slightest chill on the edge of an almost-non-existent breeze – made the day stunning. It was enough simply to walk around and take it all in. Whenever I’ve been a little lost about things, and puzzling over how such sadness walks among us, I have sought out places of comfort and beauty – such as the Boston Public Garden. It brings me back to many happy moments and acts as a balm upon a troubled heart. And one is never alone there, as evidenced by this overly-friendly squirrel whom we named Claude (since he clawed his way onto my knee).
The afternoon light played especially well with the pond, which reflected some of Boston’s iconic buildings on its surface, while mirroring the fiery fall foliage.
Meanwhile, along the streets, the blue sky formed a calming backdrop to a city that felt as subdued as I wanted it to feel. Somewhere people were surely celebrating the weekend, going about their business as if the world was back seven or eight years ago when so many things seemed so much simpler. I wasn’t there yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be, or even if I would want to be.
Such heavy thoughts seemed out of sync with the beauty of the day, so I shuffled along and wound my way back toward the condo, back toward this home-away-from-home, to a bay window that brought the sunlight into the bedroom and formed a refuge against all that was scary in this beautiful outer world.
