[ Photos are from Instagram, which I’ve been using like the madness. If you’re not following me, you should, because these aren’t even close to all the photos I’ve taken this week. Seriously – look at those last two photos taken in the lowest of low lighting and tell me the iPhone 5 camera isn’t made of awesome. Also, tell me how you ladies who carry a DSLR in your diaper bags don’t have your shoulders fall off. I’m trying to use it more, but, ugh, heavy. ]
Before THIS WEEK happened, we were in Vermont in that period of time that will always be “Before THIS WEEK.” I’ve seen it written by several different people that it can decades to feel like a real Bostonian, or just THIS WEEK. And oh, we’ve been living it. Seeing the pictures of us in Vermont is like another world – my homeland, where I came from, and to have Boston feel as close to my heart as *that*… is a transformation, for sure.
And oh how I love seeing my Whuffle in Vermont, building Legos with my dad, chasing sheep at the farm, climbing around on playgrounds where I spent many hours of my own childhood. This particular playground is across from a cemetery and when the old metal slide would get too hot or we’d just get bored – we’d cross the street. Perhaps explains a lot about me that I spent as much time playing in a cemetery as a kid as I did climbing trees.
And now we’re back and our city is getting back and it’s a new feeling, a new normal. Friday happened and I don’t have anything to say about it other than it “happened.” It was the most tense, terrifying, spectacularly boring day. It was like a snow day on the nicest day of the whole year. (Seriously – the nicest single day and we couldn’t go to the playground. I was more than a little irritated with that.) The action had the good fortune to wrap up after Whuff’s bedtime – finding Nuno and I scrambling to find the cable remote that we never use, turning it on to find that it was pretuned to MSNBC as the last time I watched live TV was the Presidential Election (with my girlfriend Rachel Maddow). And so, we sat glued to footage of… nothing really, just waiting and listening and eating copious snacks until it was announced that Tsarnaev was in custody, alive, and our city collectively exhaled.
We went out this weekend as we go out every weekend, enjoying the palpable sense of relief and the sunshine (even if it did not have the decency to bring any *warmth* with it). I’m proud to say that THIS WEEK hasn’t changed the fabric of Boston. There were plenty of smiles, plenty of laughing, and plenty of people still being grumpy and rude. Scowls at my toddler, doors shut in my face. Ah, Boston. You don’t make it easy. You’re home and you always will be and I’m sorry that it took THIS WEEK to make it happen, but you’re just that sort of city. You’re never going to issue an invitation, you’ve just got to find your way in.