A Boston Mystery, Unsolved

Two years ago this month, I had made my way to Boston in search of something. That is, once I arrived in that fair city, I felt certain I was about to find something. I wasn’t sure what it was, or what it would turn out to be, but it was the first time I felt an almost physical push towards something, a force stronger than suspicion, more focused than a gut feeling, and it impelled me to seek something out.

Would this be a person, or a place, or an object? I couldn’t tell. Would this lead me to something that unlocked a mystery from the past, the opening of a memory gate I couldn’t access before? Or would it simply be the beginning of a journey, the start of something brand new? I did not know. All I felt was that I was supposed to be there, at that moment in time, and I was supposed to find something. It remains one of the most pronounced premonitions I’ve ever had, even if it was so abstract and unclear.

Being that I’m headed back to Boston this weekend, I was reminded of that time two years ago. I also got around to adding the tales to the archives, and you can find the strange, if ultimately fruitless, adventures in the following posts:

1. Remembering the First Man in My Life, Circa 1994

2. Books Among Bricks

3. Faces of Pain

4. Hollow Sidewalks

5. Bond in Boston

This weekend I have more concrete plans and goals than I did two years ago: sampling the new Tom Ford Private Blends and a pair of new Hermès fragrances, and meeting up with my dear friend Kira, whom I haven’t seen in many months. Oh, and it’s a tax-free holiday weekend for clothing and shoes. That has more significance than any whimsical premonition ever could.

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