We pause in the Holiday Stroll story to honor one of those jewels-of-a-moment I so treasure: the interim and in-between times in which we find ourselves in a holding pattern, either at the condo or a hotel lobby or quiet bar. There is no great excitement or action involved – just a moment to take a breath, to relax, to simply be. To halt for reflection of holiday joy. The first such moment happened as we returned to the condo after a day of shopping. That late afternoon is one of my favorite times to be in the condo, no matter what time of the year, and strangely enough because it is often so sad. The light is questionable – it can stream in during the summer or the end of winter, or it can be hidden, in grays and cloudy mists. This time of day is often hidden too – just before rush hour, long enough after lunch, one of those awful shifts when you don’t know quite how to feel about it.

On this afternoon, we returned to the condo – spent and sore but happy and relaxed, when you finally sink into the weekend because you are as far from Friday and Monday as you can get. We lit a few candles, and by this time the heat had filled the rooms – from the top of the high ceilings to the amber-glowing floors. No matter what maelstrom of weather of holiday bustle was taking place outside, in here it was always safe and warm, and we took a moment to watch the rest of ‘The Man Who Came To Dinner’ before reserving a table at Post 390 for dinner.

Darkness fell all the way down while we readied ourselves for dinner. Bundling up, we went back into the chilly December night, but the lights were bright, and we cut through Back Bay station and Post 390 was right there. The last time we were there had been a gorgeous spring day a few years ago. We stopped in for an early afternoon snack of oysters before a party we were throwing for JoAnn. On that day the fire had seemed an unnecessary thing; tonight, it was a welcome treat.

Though they forgot our oysters tonight, we made the best of it and decided to do our nightcap elsewhere. Back along Boylston, we took a moment to sit by the fire in the Lenox Hotel, another favorite haunt that is done up to fine effect for Christmas. (Its lemony-scented atmosphere was a happy citrus burst of rejuvenation.) 

These little hotel lobby stops are an important part of our Holiday Stroll. They offer breaks and escapes from the rush of crowds and outside weather. For five or ten minutes, we sit and contempt the scenery. We indulge in some people-watching. Mostly, we enjoy the quiet time together, as friends do during the holidays. 

Kira showed off her new coat purchase. When you find something that fits you well, and is a steal, you take it. I insisted. She obliged. The end result is chic, stylish, and perfect for a late-night walk back home. We were not quite ready to make those final steps though. The Mandarin quietly called with its own fireplace and cozy Bar Boulud. 

A pair of white cosmopolitans was my acquiescence to Kira’s preference for sweetness and vodka. She struck up a quick conversation with the bartender, who explained that a small band was setting up to play jazz music in a bit, so we stuck around for one more. The music began and the night swelled into something magical. 

Our day began without great hurry, as no plans had been made and no itinerary needlessly nagged us. We had a cup of hot tea and cut into a Panettone, which Kira had never tried before. (Thank you for the inspiration, Miss Coco Peru!) The day was bright, but slightly overcast. As long as it didn’t rain, we didn’t mind. (And even then we’d managed to make the most out of matters in the not-so-distant past.) On this day it looked like uneventful weather for a full morning of shopping and gift gathering, and we began with the bustle of Boylston Street.

In trying so valiantly to do something different and avoid our favorite haunts, we inadvertently fell back onto the tried and true ruts of Boylston Street and Downtown Crossing. Neither of which was necessarily bad, but we still wanted something new and unique to serve as the totem for this trip. That would have to come later, once we stopped trying so hard. For now, we worked our way along Boylston, skirting the Public Garden and the Common, then arriving in Chinatown for an early lunch of pho – a welcome winter habit.

Revitalized and warmed by the spicy broth, we rallied and fought our way through Downtown Crossing, where Kira found a giant FAO Schwartz bear and insisted I take her picture. Around this time we shared this puzzling exchange, in the way that Kira sometimes challenges me:

KIRA: What do you call those people who crash weddings?

ME: Wedding crashers?

KIRA: Yes. That’s it.

And that’s where the conversation ended. It was something she needed to know and I happened to be able to provide an answer. (And then I cracked up laughing.)

Our arms filled with shopping bags, we were feeling the first waves of fatigue as the crest of the day began to subside. I’d made no dinner plans, but it was early yet. Not too early for a cocktail, however, and one of our favorite places – the Bristol Lounge at the Four Seasons – had two high-top seats in a cozy corner of the bar. Service in that corner takes forever for some reason, but eventually we got to enjoy a cocktail. Near the lobby a winter wedding was starting to assemble in the same place where Andy and I held our own wedding lunch. A happy omen for a moment of respite.

The sights and sounds of the season surrounded us as we continued on our merry way. Making the Boston rounds with Kira is always a joy; doing so at this time of the year, with all the decorations and Christmas cheer, adds a certain sparkle to every step, no matter how quickly it gets dark. The light was quickly draining as we walked back to the condo for a late afternoon siesta.

We took a meandering route through the Copley Fairmont and its impressively-baroque archways. A pair of gold lions greeted us as we strolled through the lobby, and deep inside the hallway a pair of peacocks stood sentinel. A hotel lobby is a busy and exciting place at this time of the year. Reunions and squeals of delight, emboldened children doing their best to be good for Santa, and the not-just-yet exasperated friendliness of the staff makes for a crux of holiday mayhem. We bustled our way in and out, then returned to the condo as the last light of the day gently left the sky.