Friday, April 15, 2016
"Getting ready for a long day of science!!"
Morning greets me with her teeth bared. I awake to find myself still running from the demons in my dreams. Not rested or hopeful. A to do list waiting for me that can not be accomplished in one day and so, like always, will spill into tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow until it festers and rots like spilled milk.
"I'd rather just make what I'm worth, but this makes a good point:)"
I used to chop garlic with woustoff knives and cook it in stainless steel cookware. I braised New Zealand lamb chops with organic mint and paired free range chicken with fancy Italian wine. I set my table with China and crystal and silver. Candelabras and table runners.
"friday in the sugarhouse"
When we started dating you lived in a ground floor apartment hidden away in Beacon Hill. It had the right address to sound exclusive but was close enough to the Red Line that you could feel the vibrations when it made it s lumbering journey from the deep recesses of the city to the bridge that would take it to Cambridge.
You invited me over one night when we were just dating and I made the walk that I would make so many times in the next 6 months 20 years later it is still burned in my mind. Out my door at 80 Boylston Street, across the Boston Common on the diagonal. Cross the street where the ducklings from Make Way for Ducklings crossed the street in the famous book. On Charles Street now. Dodge the people who are suppose to live here...the ones with money and power, stop and buy a pack of smokes at the Seven Eleven. Pass the retail stores and the expensive bakery that years later would be my go to breakfast spot. Turn right at Revere street. The road turns sharply up, almost reminiscent of the hills in San Francisco. But it is a short block and and soon as you turn left onto West Cedar the road slopes down again, leading you towards the river and the honking cars of Cambridge Street. At the next block you take another right. Look for the door that has no marking.
But what I can not remember from that first walk was if I hesitated. If I had made the walk with Matchbox 20's inaugural album blaring in my ears and then upon arriving had been able to feel the consequences of that heavy iron door. If I did, it wasn't long. I still make the walk in my head sometimes. It is spring and I am young and I know you are waiting.
You invited me over one night when we were just dating and I made the walk that I would make so many times in the next 6 months 20 years later it is still burned in my mind. Out my door at 80 Boylston Street, across the Boston Common on the diagonal. Cross the street where the ducklings from Make Way for Ducklings crossed the street in the famous book. On Charles Street now. Dodge the people who are suppose to live here...the ones with money and power, stop and buy a pack of smokes at the Seven Eleven. Pass the retail stores and the expensive bakery that years later would be my go to breakfast spot. Turn right at Revere street. The road turns sharply up, almost reminiscent of the hills in San Francisco. But it is a short block and and soon as you turn left onto West Cedar the road slopes down again, leading you towards the river and the honking cars of Cambridge Street. At the next block you take another right. Look for the door that has no marking.
But what I can not remember from that first walk was if I hesitated. If I had made the walk with Matchbox 20's inaugural album blaring in my ears and then upon arriving had been able to feel the consequences of that heavy iron door. If I did, it wasn't long. I still make the walk in my head sometimes. It is spring and I am young and I know you are waiting.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)