A Victory of Sorts

My family and health providers are anxious that I not stay home - I've had the habit of isolating myself lately and even I admit that it's not healthy.  Much to their surprise, I announced plans to go to Boston last Friday.  Boston, the state capital of Massachusetts, is about 40-odd miles from where I live and takes 1 1/2 hours by train.

I actually had business to conduct.  During the summer I applied for a half-fare disabled pass (Charlie Card) to ride commuter rail and transportation within the Boston area.  I got the approval letter last week, and I would have to go to the Charlie Card office in downtown Boston to have a photo taken for the card.  I wanted the pass originally to attend a meeting of a New England arts group which I chickened out of.  As usual.  But this time I was determined that I needed to do something, anything, to break out of routine. 

So I did it.  On the way up, leaving from Providence's train station, I paid full price for a one-way ticket.  On the way home I'd pay half price and that'd be less than round trip.) 




I landed at South Station, which is huge.  It's a major transportation hub for Amtrak, for one thing, and thousands of people pass through each day, both tourists and commuters.  And I picked up the pass after some confusion about where the office actually was. 

My plan was to go to favorite places in Boston to see what was still there.  The last time I'd done a trip like this to Boston was several years ago, and I knew that things would be gone.  My plan Friday was to go first to Harvard Square and wander around.

I didn't take a lot of photos, actually.  It was a gray, overcast day (NOT sunny as promised), and I wasn't really in the mood.

Gradually I developed a plan while wandering.  At one time I'd visited a stationery store called Bob Slate Stationers which I remembered as being in a rickety first floor store front somewhere up on Mass Avenue.  Didn't find it.  Then I remembered (duh) I could Google the store to see if it was still around.  Yes, it was, at a different location on Brattle Street.

One of the reasons I really wanted to go was because the store I remembered had lots of neat office supplies you couldn't find other places.  The main one, however, was that at that time they were selling wonderful handmade paper.  I'm getting to the end of the paper I'd bought the last time I went (probably 10 years ago), and wanted to replace it or get something else.

And I found it.  But, alas, they no longer had as much a selection of fine papers on their own, but only some fine papers to be used as wrapping paper.  However, the papers were really fun and I bought 3 sheets, plus a t-square.  I've never owned a t-square and it's a useful tool.  

I wandered up and down Brattle Street, looking at buildings, and just enjoying the moment, the novelty of being in a place that was both familiar and unfamiliar.  Picked up a couple of souvenirs that I'll use as small Christmas gifts.  Listened to buskers doing their business on the square - some good, some not so great - but I dropped dollars into the buckets because musicmaking should be encouraged.  Pretended, for just for a little while, to be a student at a place I'd longed to be accepted by. 

Another place I wanted to visit was Out of Town News, a Harvard Square institution, where you can get newspapers from around the world and all kinds of publications that are hard to find elsewhere.   I didn't buy anything, but it was fun to browse.

By this time, however, I was starting to have a panic attack in the middle of Harvard Square, and it angered me, which increased the panic.  I'd really wanted to walk through the Boston Common, as well as explore Washington Street, one of the downtown shopping districts.  Not to shop, but again to see what was still there.  
I knew that that wasn't going to happen now, not with a panic attack.  I admitted that I'd have to come home earlier than planned.  And so I took the T back to South Station and picked up the Purple Line (the nickname for the commuter rail system) back to Providence, and then the bus home.

In some ways the trip was a failure in that I wasn't able to do all that I'd wanted to do.  The panic attack stemmed from being around thousands of people milling about - and also memories of having been there often with the person who abused me.  

I wanted to take Boston back - for myself - you see.

But I did it.  I got there, I broke out of routine, a usual routine consisting only of necessary trips to necessary destinations, and then a quick retreat back to the safety of home.  I knew friends and family were egging me on, wanting me to do this, and I accomplished the small bit of business needing to be done.

And that's a victory.

later,
lin