Day 218

Jess looking gorgeous and Tony being funny

Boston Harbor Island trip

Looking back at the city from the water is beautiful, it is our city now.  Last time we went to George's Island was 9 years ago, on Jessica's 19th birthday.  It was the six of us then, Emma too, but today Tony took Emma's place, and the boys are not little 8 year-olds anymore, but big grown-up men.  We missed our sunshiney Emma.  Last time we were new in this country, everything strange and difficult, this time we are seasoned veterans.

George's Island 2001

At George's Island we went on a tour of Fort Warren, led by an old park ranger, a sweet man who explained all about the building of a castle like this, the ways in which it was designed for maximum delivery of cannon-fire, gun-shots, defense.  It was quite fascinating, even to me, who abhors war and armories and the like, but especially to boys, who, Jess and I decided, from the behaviour of her boyfriend and two brothers, never really develop further than about twelve.

Weird how as humans we live so much in the past and the future, while we could always be living more in the moment.  Today was a happy event, but tinged always with dread for tomorrow, when Jess will be leaving.  The entire day, tears hung about at the back of my eyes, waiting to leap forward. 

George's Island 2010

From George's we caught a water-taxi to Spectacle Island, which was basically where Boston dumped all its trash for 30 years.  During the Big Dig, earth excavated from Boston was used to re-surface the island and today it is lovely, with an interesting eco-system, new vegetation and various experimental programmes to do with solar energy, birdlife and weed control. It has also been made with a hill, one of the highest points of all the harbor islands. 

The water-taxi ride was quite an adventure, one in which we all sat huddled and slightly miserable, being soaked by cold spray, as the wind had changed and waves crashed up all around us!  My thoughts turned to the smallness of the little boat we were in, the strength of the wind, the amazing ability of boats to carry us over water, but also to founder, to sink.  And I thought of my family (we were the only passengers) being tossed into the cold sea, how we would manage if this were to happen.  The cameras, cellphones, my bag with all its necessary articles (a book to read, a book in which to write or draw, drawing utensils, nailcutting set, reading glasses, pills in case of headache sufferers, pencils, pens, a swiss army knife, scissors, cotton and needles, a spare jumper, a shawl, Nick's swimsuit, tissues, my ipod and bose earphones, binoculars, Nick's deodorant, bug-spray, sea-glass and stones Jess and I had picked up on the island beach, my little point-and-shoot camera, my car-keys) all would be lost at the bottom of the ocean, but I thought that we would surely survive, Tim would make a plan, I always trust him to keep his head, to know what to do.  And we would save ourselves.

The ferry ride back to Boston resulted in Jess and I just about having ready-made dreadlocks, but what a lovely day, a good day, coming home tired and windswept and blessed, traveling over the sparkling sea.