Boston is a city steeped in history and tradition. It’s there in every cobblestone, every worn sculpture, every turn along the Freedom Trail. It’s also a great place to explore to get a feel for this country’s origin story, and the various events that brought us to such freedom. This was the background for a weekend with the twins in Boston, where we began on a sunny Friday afternoon with a walk along the Freedom Trail, and it would become a weekend that we added to our own family history.
It was the last unofficial weekend in summer – a long one thanks to Labor Day – and we arrived to celebrate the final sunny days of a summer that has treated us exceptionally well. This would be our farewell to a Boston summer, and I was joined by Noah and Emi, who were game enough to do the entire Freedom Trail. As we began the first leg, I eyed the golden-domed State house ahead of us and warned them that the hill was steeper than it looked. They balked at my warning, as though I was an old man barely able to get around, so I was confident they would tackle the trail without a problem.
We wound our way through downtown Boston, pausing at each historical stop along the way, making vague plans for dinner in Quincy Market or the North End, and the beauty of the day kept us inspired.
The twins and I have had a number of adventures over this past summer, so we looked back over a few of those on our journey. They’ve also been in Boston with me during the holidays, and we talked of maybe doing that again this holiday season. Adding to our family history while recalling it was a warm moment for us, and as we wound our way through the streets of Boston, I felt us writing a new chapter in the exact moment it was happening.
We decided to have our dinner in the North End, and we enjoyed some pasta on the second floor of Bacco, situated by a window and looking down into the streets just starting to swell with people.
The day’s light was winding down as we were nearing the end of the trail. The twins were already tired out, and complaining that their feet hurt. Their 47-year-old Uncle Al was ready to walk another five miles, and in my head I recalled their initial dismissal of my warning of the hill to the State House, but we slowed our pace and rested before heading back home.
We pushed through and made it back, and I told them we would all sleep well after such a workout. Back in the condo, we settled in, had some dessert, and were out almost as soon as we hit the pillows. The next day we were scheduled for a Boston Harbor cruise, and we needed the rest…
