We knew this year’s Boston Children’s Holiday Hour would be a quieter one, and we welcomed that. The twins couldn’t make it, neither could Simon, and the youngest of the bunch that could appear, Milo, teeters on teenage-dom, so this little tradition may be in need of a name change or revamping in its next iteration. Happily it was still a joyful moment with dear friends gathering in the condo for a holiday ritual that always feels like a warm and bright spot amid the more tumultuous seasonal revelry.
Chris arrived late on a Thursday, so I went over early as well just to get things ready and to spend time with one of my safe people. I’d last seen him at Dad’s service, so I was anxious to make a new memory, and we went about the city for a couple of days on our own before the crowd assembled.
The next day I met Kira for lunch in Beacon Hill, a bonus get-together following this holiday stroll which had been such an enjoyable romp. Our impromptu lunch of Thai food was a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle of the season, a reminder of what really matters in all the madness. We walked along Charles Street after lunch and checked out a few of the shops, then I made my way toward the condo through the Public Garden.
The weather had been gracious to us, unlike the nasty storm that greeted our festivities last year. It was cold, but there was no rain, such as the deluge that marred the last time Chris and I were in Boston together. We met back up at the condo then headed to an exceptionally-fun dinner at the North End, where we had once had a wild dinner with his Mom a couple of decades ago. When you can talk about time with friends in terms of decades, you know you’re talking about a good friend.
The next day was the official Boston Children’s Holiday Hour, which has always turned into four or five hours, and gratefully so. Suzie, Pat, Oona, Milo, Tommy, Janet, Mady and Logan soon arrived – we hadn’t been together since an all-too-quick dinner this past summer. A lot had happened since then, but we were still here, still alive, still celebrating the kids who were no longer quite kids, and still not adults, so there was still time.
Another holiday season had come and almost gone. A Boston night enfolded us in its mystery and calm, strange clouds passing overhead, and the next day Chris departed at the crack of dawn to catch a plane. I headed back home a couple hours later – back to Christmas, back to family, back to what remained of the calendar year.
