Shaking off the ickiness of an awkward and difficult lunch is only partly cured by a shopping excursion. That sort of balm requires beauty and flowers and the sweetness of a slow sun setting over the city which has never let me down. To those ends, Boston delivered a calming end to the day, as if to say that everything was going to be all right, everything was as it should be, and it was ok to simply pause and breathe and exist.
Summer would come to Boston, just as spring had done, and there was no stopping or changing that. The upcoming BroSox Adventure with Skip is on the near horizon, while a birthday celebration in Boston with Andy is further down summer’s road. I’ll also be spending some time on my own in the city, like I used to do when Kira was in Florida. I’ve missed such solitude. We have all missed so much.
It is enough to exist, to breathe, to simply be – and we need not share that with anyone or document it or do what I’m doing right now by blogging about it. For that reason, the summer may be outwardly quieter than usual, and maybe I’ll have fewer posts each week. Perhaps that’s how this blog shifts into its own arc of winter, something that’s been hinted at and may finally be happening. Not that I’m planning on going anywhere anytime soon – some winters are a lifetime long.
As I find myself back at Braddock Park, there is still light in the sky. It’s been quite a day – and all of this in a single day – so I take an early sleep. It is not a content one, however, as I’m restless and uneasy. My legs hurt from too much walking – so much so that I can’t find a position that is comfortable, and I toss and turn much of the night. When at last I drift off, a man starts screaming profanities outside on the street, waking me again.
Giving up on sleep by 8 AM, I make the bed and head out for breakfast at Cafe Madeleine. Overnight the air has changed dramatically. All hints of summer have been sucked out of the atmosphere. It is chilly and overcast, like fall is back, like winter is coming, and the unease of the night spills into the new day.
Still, the gardens remain in bloom, and their blooms will last longer this way.
