From my now-somewhat-extensive experience with birthdays, I can say that most of them are disappointingly anti-climactic. In so many ways, they are just another day, unremarkable for the vast majority of the rest of the world. It’s supposed to be about you and only you, but it is really just a reminder of how insignificant it is to everyone else. That may be why I prefer to spend them quietly and out of town, or buffer them with vacations to Boston or New York or Rehoboth Beach. Anything to distract from their intrinsically non-momentous nature. Even one’s 50th birthday, which for me dawned on a beautiful Boston morning, felt more like a day off before a vacation than any holiday or occasion of itself. A number of Virgos have felt similarly about their birthdays, or so I’m told, being somewhat despondent on the day we are supposed to be celebrating.

Lowering expectations has been my typical mode of addressing the tendency to indulge in melancholy on this day. And so it was that after waking, I quietly padded out to the front room and looked over Braddock Park’s fountain before rousing Andy and heading to brunch at Aquitaine.

On the way back, we passed a few Nike hearts – and the one that called to me was this one, with its little feather in the lower right corner of the picture.

As Mom’s main gift, she had gifted us a night at Raffles in Boston, so we packed our overnight bags and wardrobe and I sprayed some of my latest fragrance.

After almost thirty years of owning the condo, there are always new establishments coming to Boston, which keeps the city thrilling.

The new Raffles knows how to welcome a birthday boy.

A review of our stay is up in the next post…

There would be no fireworks or explosive demarcation between the final night of my 40’s and the start of my 50’s, which is precisely how I wanted it. After we returned to the condo after dinner, I finished a couple of thank you letters I’d written for early birthday presents and told Andy I was going to mail them. I headed out into the night – the last night as a 49-year-old.

The short length of Braddock Park was finished too soon for my mind’s wandering. I pushed the letters into the mailbox at the end of the street, and continued on. I was not quite ready to end the evening, not quite ready to leave my 40’s. It was silly, but the heart sometimes overrules the mind, and the evening was so beautiful I kept walking.

At every happy crux in my life, I’ve found myself alone and in solitude for some small piece of time. It’s happened at various birthdays over the years, and most notably on my actual wedding day, when I found myself on my own in the Public Garden after everyone had gone to their hotels for a break before dinner. Andy was sleeping in our suite, and I stole off to the Garden to be with myself and mark the moment in my mind.

In some small way, I suppose I do that as a little reassurance and reminder that we are all, only and in the end, alone – even when we have loved ones near. It will one day be that way, hopefully nearer the end of my life, and I want to be ready and prepared for it.

On this night – the night before I turned 50 – I walked the streets of Boston – no longer haunted by my past, no longer haunted by my future. Beside me, I suddenly felt the unexpected yet reassuring presence of my father and uncle, as if they were walking me back home. Both had been with me at various times on Braddock Park, and both were with me now, as if they were telling me to carry the Ilagan name forward. I looked up to the glowing light from our window, where Andy was preparing for bed, and I let the last fifty years go.

My final day as a 49-year-old dawned beautifully in Boston. A blue sky accented by drifting clouds, none of which blocked the sun, was the gorgeous backdrop for our late morning ambulations. We headed to the Four Seasons, where we had a brunch echoing the wedding lunch we had fifteen years ago. Alas, that towering chocolate cake was nowhere on offer, so I decided to wait on a sweet treat.

The fragrance for the start of the day was a simple and deliciously peppery design by Jean Claude-Ellena, one of my favorite fragrance experts for the house of Frederic Malle – Angéliques Sous La Pluie. It’s informed a few Boston adventures over the years, and I welcomed the chance to make a new scent memory.

The Boston Public Garden felt fresh and vibrant, despite the late August hour – a testament to the mostly gentle summer we’ve had weather-wise. Flowers were still in bloom, and the colors were as bright as they were in June – a strange and happy circumstance.

We walked our usual path along the pond, along with others out for such a delightful day. The waterfowl were putting on a show for everyone – geese and ducks making their way in and out of the water. Squirrels playfully roamed the grassy expanses, disappearing into the trees then reappearing like little magicians.

A favorite vista.

At mid-day, the heat rose a few notches, so we made our way toward a cooling sweet treat, and the place I’d found an elusive peach ice cream last year.

Restored and rejuvenated by cream and sugar and peaches, we headed back the way we had come, but taking a different route through the Public Garden once we reached its iron-gated border.

One of the most recently renovated sections of the garden was open – this lovely fountain by the Arlington Street entrance – a restoration from the past, a step toward the future.

We walked along Newbury Street and had a couple of mocktails at the Lenox Hotel and the new Willow & Ivy restaurant there. A hotel bar provides delicious respite at the height of a summer afternoon. Andy walked to the condo while I made one more stop to procure a special gift.

Tom Ford’s ‘Oud Voyager’ – available a bit earlier than originally announced from my favorite TF contact – was my 50th birthday present to myself – because sometimes you have to be your own hero. This birthday weekend was seeding lessons I already knew but rarely employed. It was good that way, and it felt like the way things should go. When you follow the whispers of the universe, and you stop forcing things, the world shares its secrets with you – secrets of ease and comfort, secrets of calm and peace.

A sneak-sniff of this autumn’s theme, ‘Oud Voyager’ would be my fragrance for the last dinner of my 49th year. Andy ordered a fine vehicle to transport us to Prima in Charlestown, where we had secured a table in their gorgeous Rose Room. It was romantic in every sense – sumptuous and cozy, with hints of velvet opulence and lampshades whose light was softened with fringe – the ideal dining vision for the eve of 50.

Later that night, as I climbed into bed, Andy gave me his birthday present – a magnificent gold Bulova watch that I’d been eyeing for a while. It was a gift of time, and as we drove home in the night, I thought of the previous decades. My fiftieth year coincides with our twenty-fifth anniversary – meaning that I met Andy when I was only twenty-five. In all those years, the gift of time – of being together – is still the best gift.

Simplicity and solemnity were the orders for my 50th birthday weekend in Boston, and with just Andy and I in town for the festivities it was an order we happily carried out. This August’s weather has been good to us, and a sunny and comfortable few days without excessive heat or humidity kept that beauty going. We arrived early in the afternoon, dropped our things at the condo, then had a stroll through the Southwest Corridor Park, which was resplendent in bloom, starting with this vibrant zinnia.

With dinner reservations later that evening, we had ample time for my favorite thing in Boston: a siesta. I picked up some bites at Eataly then returned to the condo for a little snack and a not-so-little nap.

Upon waking, the sun was slanting into the bedroom – a favorite moment of the day in a favorite room. The fragrance for the evening was Tom Ford’s ‘Fucking Fabulous’ – a gift from Andy a number of years ago – something light and sweet to christen our Boston weekend.

Decked out for dinner, Andy ordered a car to take us to the seaport, where some delicious sushi awaited us at LoLa 42. We walked along the harbor for a bit, then headed to the restaurant. Despite our cramped and noisy seats by the bar – both of us are way too old for that scene, our eyes and ears failing us in the dim light – the food was amazing, and Andy’s cocktail was divine.

The light was already changing, hinting at fall – the enchanting sort of transformation that is both sad and sweet at the same time.

August anemones danced in the sunlight, as if cheering on those lucky enough to pass their way.

A sign of impending fall, as much as they signified a summer that was not quite ready to yield…