Boston has my heart

And always will...

When I moved to Boston in 1994, I was following my heart, following a boy who held that heart gently in his hands. We were 20 years old. I wasn’t thinking about weddings or babies and how living 375 miles from my family might affect those things some day. I made multiple trips per year to see my family outside of Philadelphia. I had a friend who grew up about 15 minutes from my hometown. He had a car and drove home for all the holidays. So I even had reliable transport back and forth for the two years I was finishing college.

It wasn’t hard to become a New England girl. I don’t like humidity. I prefer temperatures below 80. I would take a single-digit day over a day above 90 degrees always. I love snow. I love coziness and blankets and sweaters and all things winter. I had never skied before moving to Boston. I wasn’t interested at first. My husband, D, who grew up near Worcester, of course learned young and loved it. When some friends asked us to go, I finally agreed. And…well…it only enhanced my love of New England. (I admit to watching clips of people up in Maine skiing this week. It made a hard week a little easier.)

When I applied to doctoral programs, I applied to one in California. We had seriously discussed moving out to the other coast and this seemed like a way to do it. Sadly, the program closed and so there was no opportunity there. I got in to a local Boston university and that committed us to the area for another five to seven years. And then we got married. And had babies. And we just weren’t going to leave.

It is hard to raise children without family nearby. When Z was just one years old, we moved to a small city on the edge of Boston. We made good friends. We built a community. We had people we could call if we needed anything. But it would have been easier if one of my sisters lived around the corner. Or in the next town over. If I could have called my mom or dad when the boys were napping and I needed to run out to the grocery store. If my brothers could have been soccer coaches for their nephews. If my kids had a cheering section of more than me. We have done a good job, I hope, of keeping my kids connected to their cousins, uncles and aunts, and grandparents. My parents have seen most of their theater performances. They have spent many Christmases with us. And we have tried to get down to see my family once or twice a year since the boys were small. We have taken vacations with my sisters and their families.

I am lucky to have parents who are both healthy and able to make the trip up to Boston to see my boys a few times a year. I am grateful to have siblings I love and enjoy spending time with; who have children I adore; and who love my children right back. If I could have my life here in New England, and have all these lovely people in my neighborhood, I would love that, too.

And I am so lucky to have friends who are like family to me. Neighbors who became friends and are now like family. Friends we share holiday meals with. Friends I’ve raised my kids with. Friends who are emergency contacts and who I trust 100% if they needed to make a decision for my kids. Friends who love my kids like their own. Friends whose kids I love like my own.

It’s been a hard week, in a hard few months, in a hard seven or so years.

It’s good to remember all the love that surrounds me. All the people who make this life a good one.

Because, truly, this life is a good one. And while this time of transitioning to the end of my boys’ childhoods is currently gut punching me on the regular, I am so grateful for the life I lead.

I am so grateful for you.

I hope you forgive your parents for the ways they messed you up
I hope some of that was just their way of trying to show you love
I bet part of you is still that kid staring at your bedroom wall
Wondering how the world’s so big and why you feel so small

I hope you find your true north
I hope you make some dreams come true
I hope you learn early that the love you give all comes right back to you
I hope you get up every time you fall, and you get back in again
But if you only get one thing that’s a given
I hope you have happy children

-Lori McKenna/Chris McKenna

All photos were taken by the exceptional Dana Giuliana, unless otherwise noted.