Here were the facts as of the time of this writing:
It was Boston.
It was the holiday season.
It was me, walking – a.k.a. strolling – through the city on my own.
Does this constitute a Holiday Stroll?
I haven’t quite decreed because I haven’t quite decided. As I sit here in a Copley cafe on a Saturday night (hello cafe culture!), sipping on a delicious lavender latte like the fancy fucking princess I imagine myself to be, I contemplate whether this was an official Holiday Stroll, or if it would be better to close off another ancient tradition and make room for something new. Nature does so abhor a vacuum, and I tend to follow her lead. My heart and head would genuinely be all right with either.
As Holiday Strolls have historically gone, this wouldn’t be a bad one, but it was the first without another friend to join me in the journey, which made for some mixed emotions. If we were to recap a proper stroll, we would begin with yesterday’s landing in the city, whereupon an early solo dinner at House of Siam set a quiet beginning to the weekend in motion…
By the time I returned to the condo, light had drained from the sky and the remains of a super Cold Moon rose behind the bare branches of a tree outside the front window, lending a magical backdrop to the holiday-decorating scene taking place in my underwear. That was written poorly, but I like it so I’m leaving it. (A bonus wardrobe aspect of not being burdened by company is running around the place in whatever I want, or don’t want, to wear.)
With each decoration that went up, and each strand of garland that got hung, I felt little pangs of sorrow in the absence of my usual strolling companion. Kira haunted this business of decorating, as she was such a traditional aspect of being in Boston during the Christmas season. When I was done, I sat on the couch as Christmas music played, and as I surveyed the surroundings in their glowing warm lights, I felt a small sense of loneliness – but the atmosphere was warm, the memories were sweet, and overall it wasn’t completely heartbreaking. This is how people move on, I thought – from loss, from change, from tumult – and we just keep doing this dance until it’s over.
It wasn’t until the next morning, when I sat alone in Pho Pasteur and a glorious bowl Pho Tai arrived, that I looked across the table, saw the empty seat, and had a moment of sadness. The pho was hot and filling, and I finished the entire bowl. Walking toward Downtown Crossing, a cold wind blew past me, and I thought how much like ghosts we all were, the way the world could go right through us, leaving us empty.
Haunted.
And in that very moment something else presented itself in my mind – the idea that I might make this the first solo Holiday Stroll – and that it might not have to be so sad if I chose for it not to be. We do have a choice and say in such matters, if we allow ourselves to take such control of our emotional narrative.
There is always a choice.
Emboldened by this, my steps gained in purpose and power. My confidence returned, and I found myself, yes, strolling.
Was this then the new version of our Holiday Stroll? You and me, dear reader, because no one else was there. Would a solo rendition be the path forward for ensuring the survival of a cherished tradition? It felt for a moment like that might be the case. Certainly that was a sustainable twist – I could always count on myself, as the previous half-century had proven; other people had always been the questionable part – the messy, life-affirming, disappointing, and vital part – the part that every once-in-a-while made all the heartache worthwhile.
I was passing through the shortcut I used to take when I worked at Structure, a lesser-known side entrance to Faneuil Hall, and a silly lunch with Kira at the Sugar Factory came to mind, followed by memories of a fortuitously-timed holiday stroll years ago when we happened upon the very day the Christmas was being lit here… and then a summer day by the waterfront spent watching a group of young men playing a volleyball game on a patch of green grass…
Yes, perhaps solo strolls would be the route to move forward, I thought somewhat sadly, because I was sad. I felt it. It was hurt. It was loneliness. It was sadness. And at the same time, it was somehow ok. I felt that too. It was ok to be alone, to be lonesome sometimes, even on a Holiday Stroll intended to celebrate the season. Not wanting to shade this new tradition, however, if that’s indeed what I was inadvertently creating, I decided to turn things around with a sweet treat of chocolate chip cookies.
I held the bag of them in my hand as I sat down on a bench near the North Market building, feeling indulgently sorry for myself as I settled in between two men whose wives or partners would soon return for them. One by one they paired off and departed, leaving me along on the bench, which was better anyway. By the time I finished the last cookie, the brief sense of feeling ok with my present circumstance of a solo stroll had departed, and that dull sadness, that gnawing emptiness of having lost a friend, came back.
Slowly, with the requisite creaks and cracks of fifty-year-old bones that lately hadn’t been accustomed to this much walking, I rose to my feet. Thought briefly of going through the scant smattering of shops that remained on the North Market side, then decided against it, opting to round the far side of the market, by the exit that would lead to the waterfront if I’d taken it. On a warmer day, perhaps… Turning back along the South Market side, I took in the expanse of the cobblestones, and once again marveled at how long they had been there, how many feet had tread upon them, how many people they’d seen pass by – a thought of history that attends many places for me in Boston, and always a good realignment of time and perspective.
There were those whom I had lost – Dad, Uncle Roberto, Gram, Alissa – who were here for meaningful stretches that have continued long after their physical departures, and there will very likely be others I will lose before I leave this earth. I walked with them now as I continued this lonely holiday stroll as hints of snow started falling from the sky…
{To be continued…}
