Letters From Boston
Traveling is like flirting with life. It's like saying "I would stay and love you, but I have to go."
Travelling has easily become my favorite past time this year- since my birthday in September, my most frequented place has been Boston. I’ve fallen completely in love with the city, and have hopes to move there for school next year. Since my newfound love with the city, I’ve taken any opportunity I have had to just even spend a few hours out of my day there-making the 4-hour car trip into Boston has provided me with hours upon hours of self-reflection, my second favorite thing that comes along with when I travel.
Last time I was in Boston, the day before a college interview, I sat in one of my favorite spots in the city: This one bench that is quite popular to sit at in the Public Garden. It easily can seat up to 50 people, and it’s long, and dark green, and in my opinion has the best view of the rest of the park and all the fancy store corners on Boylston St.
When I first started traveling to Boston more frequently this summer, I would always sit there and kill time while in between shopping, or hanging out with a friend- it became my comfort spot in the city. One day, I spent two and a half hours just basking in the summer sun reading a book and people watching, it’s my warmest memory from the past year.
During my most recent trip to Boston, I knew it was only appropriate to revisit ‘my bench’ again, because my trips aren’t complete until I’ve spent at least 5 minutes there. Inevitably, since it was the first week of December, it was fairly cold out, but I didn’t mind because I’ve become very equipped to handle the cold while living in Vermont. I was among, maybe 10 other people sitting in the public garden at 10 am on a brisk Monday morning, that was the quietest I had ever seen it. I pulled out my moleskin I carry everywhere and started to write- I was planning on being inspired by all the people I would see, but that didn’t seem to be a very useful option that morning, so I turned to my favorite place in the park as my muse. This poem was the product, I hope you now get to understand why I love this bench so much:
3 years later and sitting on the same bench we first discovered is still as nostalgic as the first day I met you. I go there every November when I find myself in the city. I like to sit there in silence until remnants of our conversations start to play back in my mind, and a familiar rush of anxiousness sweeps over my body. When that becomes too much, I like to let my hands wander to underneath the seat and fiddle with the chipping pieces of paint- their rough edges remind me of your scratchy voice and make me remember what it feels like to be a child again when nothing hurt.
There is this one moment we shared together that refuses to leave my memory, and plays over in my mind every November like clockwork: A huge gust of wind had just blown all of your hair into my face- and when you finally contained the last strands, you looked at me with your sunset eyes: complex shades of brown, all mixed together perfectly. Nowadays I have to drink my coffee too dark, so it never resembles those amber eyes.
Cover photography credit: instagram- @roamingfrechman website- http://www.freshbaguettephoto.com