Last year the twins and I made a last-summer-minute visit to Boston for Labor Day, and it went so well that we decided to do it again. Such a move to recapture former glory is always risky, and given the way the world has gone of late this one felt especially perilous, but for the most part we managed to have a good experience. Time spent with family feels especially important these days.
We arrived a little before noon on Saturday, in an unplanned sweet spot between the crazy Friday traffic and college arrivals for the new school year. The day was sunny and warm – summer looked to pretend she’s been a doll all this time when we all knew better. Our first order of business was to pick up some snacks from Eataly then return to the condo for a siesta before dinner. This was the first time I have been back in Boston since Dad died, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. Noah and Emi acted as a buffer and comfort for this entry, taking my mind off what might have otherwise been a more contemplative experience.
After procuring some food, we spent some time eating and talking over the things that concern thirteen-year-old kids these days, and then it was time to take a leisurely walk along the Charles River. This may be its most resplendent time – and it was this time of the year when I made my very first walk along its beautiful banks. The twins rambunctiously walked/ran ahead and behind, and somehow we made it to the Hatch without incident, where we crossed back toward downtown. After meandering through the Public Garden in the Golden Hour, we skirted Boston Common and made out way to Chinatown as the sun was going down.
Dinner in Chinatown was Noah’s idea and request, and we found a place which had one of the best bok choy dishes any of us had ever had. Simple joys shared with loved ones take on a special sheen when experienced in a new/old city. After stuffing ourselves silly, we walked all the way back to the condo in the hope of burning some calories. It was a beautiful and comfortable night – and summer smiled on us as we turned in for the night.
Right before I woke, I had this dream, and first visit, from Dad. If I was unsure about whether I’d still feel him here, it was confirmation that I always would. After drying my tears, I felt comforted and ok – in fact, better than ok, and my good mood inspired the day as I woke the twins and we headed over to Cambridge for a brunch of ramen noodles at Porter Square. From there, we walked to Harvard Square taking a familiar route I’d traversed many times during my years at Brandeis. We spent some time going through the Harvard campus, perhaps sewing the seeds of a future college goal with the twins, perhaps not.
Our server at Tia’s was a buffoon, delivering Noah’s dinner ten minutes after Emi and I had received ours, but it resulted in an exchange that the twins loved so it was worth it:
Server: “Our kitchen is as bad as the New York Jets.”
Me: “I don’t know what that means.”
Next table over: [Smirks and snickers]
With another half-hour to go before we were due at the tour, we found a fun fountain that had a few kids running through it, as streams of water would randomly and without warning shoot up at various heights, illuminated by colorful lights. The twins watched, completely transfixed, as kids mostly younger than them dashed in and among the lights and shooting water, trying to dodge getting wet while thrilling at every splash and unsuccessful avoidance. On the cusp of aging out of such adventures, they wanted to join in as much as they wanted to appear that they were supremely uninterested in joining in – the adolescent push and pull of conflicting emotions and wishes – and if we weren’t due to sit on a tour bus for the next hour and a half I’d have encouraged them to run through it and enjoy these last days of summer and youth.
