Something that you may not know about me is that I’m one of the few Southern belles born (gasp!) above the Mason-Dixon. In Boston to be precise, a stones throw from Harvard. I wrote about it last year, and going back this weekend has given me a lot to think about.
We only lived there until I was 8, and proceeded to spend the rest of my growing up time in the South. While I don’t consider Boston to be home (though strangely my younger brother does) there is a warm fuzzy feeling that creeps up on me whenever we go to visit. I love picking up maple candy and buying syrup from Vermont, passing back and forth over the bridges, trying not to scream in terror as Adam navigates the country’s worst drivers. Ok, maybe I don’t love that part.
But Boston is also the place of magical childhood Christmases. My mother’s family all lives there and it’s hard to not slip into their accent when we sit around at dinner. I’d like to think that if we had lived there longer I would have learned to sail, I would have danced more, and I might have still gone to college in the South.
This past weekend we met up with Adam’s friend who is studying at Harvard Business School and his girlfriend. Walking through Cambridge I thought, “Wouldn’t it be nice to live here for a year or two?” Then I saw some fancy dress that borders on an illegal drug trip and reconsidered. Since moving away in elementary school, I’ve never taken any opportunities to go back. Sure I hate the cold and I pretend that my sister and cousin would conscript me into non-stop babysitting duties. But really I love my nephews and Adam is teaching me how to dress in layers. Lots of layers. So maybe it would be fun?
Have you ever been to Boston? What’s your favorite place there?