Final year of dental school

For most of the last three years that I _________ have lived in Boston, I have been counting down the days until we would move. I have enjoyed many uniquely New England experiences but at the same time I haven’t found enough positive things to outweigh all the negatives to comprehend why anyone would live here permanently.


I moved here three years ago because my husband, Sam, was accepted to the dental school at Boston University. He drove the moving truck from Arizona to our new place in Norwood, MA, with his brother, while I flew first class with Rachel who was only 3 months. He was accepted at other schools too, but we choose Boston because we were ready for a change. He was born and raised in Phoenix, and thought it would be nice to experience the seasons. I too was raised in Phoenix, and had been dreaming about living on the east coast since junior high. My best friend Nicole and I fantasized about moving to New York or Boston, going to college together, and sharing a dorm. However, when the time came, we went for the less adventurous (and more practical) option of going to an in-state school. It was cheaper and near family. I thought I had missed my one chance to leave my hometown and see another part of the world, so I was psyched at this second chance at this opportunity of a lifetime.

The fact that this move was viewed as temporary was the sole source of all my optimism, after all, I could put up with anything as long as a definite end lay ahead.

It is during the pleasant weather days that I love living in Boston. I am invigorated by the endless list of historic sites to see, beaches to try out, and happenings to experience downtown. I find the crisp, cool days of fall perfect for enjoying the vibrant colored leaves. I find a genuine cause for celebration in the arrival of Spring, which is initiated by Mother Nature’s decorating for the occasion. Not only are beautiful flowers raised from the thawing ground, and shades of green returned to the landscape, but the bare branches of towering trees are smothered with cheerful, pink, white, and purple blossoms. Summer days are packed with potential, in my opinion. Theoretically, I could spend them on nearby beaches, on a blanket in the Commons watching Shakespeare in the Park, or walking the history-filled, cobblestone, streets of Boston.

However, on the days with lousy weather, I am less enthusiastic about my present New England location. The winters, by far the worst, are unarguably frigid, gloomy, and borderline unbearably long. Even the uplifted spirits that come with Spring are dampened when gray skies return again, only this time bringing downpours of rain instead of snow. By the time summer arrives, I am grateful to finally feel uncomfortably warm. When I get into my car after it has been sitting in the hot sun, and the burst of heat almost suffocates me, I catch myself giving a sigh of enjoyment. Inevitably, even these long awaited for summer days become tainted when Boston reaches oppressive on the humidity scale. I am actually used to sweaty weather since I grew up in Phoenix, but for me the most miserable part is not the thick, sticky air, but the fact that the historic homes (while undoubtedly full of character) are generally lacking central air conditioning and the obvious relief/escape it can offer. Fall can be beautiful, but in the past few years has been cut short by an anxious winter, and all you feel is that you were jipped. Last year the first snow fall came early, just after the leaves had dropped, on Halloween. Unfortunately, according to my own precise calculations, these lousy weather days make up approximately 8 months out of the year, which is exactly why I chose the word tolerating to describe my mood most of the time.



There did come a point, however, when I was caught off guard and realized I loved Boston more than I thought, and that I might actually miss parts of living here. It hit me one evening as I was driving north from Quincy, a city just south of Boston (where I actually live), to a friend’s house in Belmont. It was just as I was driving through downtown Boston. I was driving over the Zakim Bridge, all lit up, (one of my favorite sights in the city), and as I looked out to my left I could see the lights of the tall buildings that make up the Boston skyline and even parts of it reflected in the Charles River. I felt a lump in my throat thinking that I had only a year left to view this amazing sight as part of my daily routine.

This set off a chain reaction of planning in my head and for the rest of my drive I made a mental list of all the sites I had yet to see. Three whole years in Boston and I still hadn’t been to Martha’s Vineyard, or even the Cape. There were still the historic sites just minutes from home, such as the John Adams house, which I drive past five times a week and yet have never made time to go inside for a tour. These were placed on the top of the list but they were only the beginning. I also thought of my favorite places in the city: the shops at the Prudential Center, Copley Square, and dinner with a view of the water at the Barking Crab. I definitely needed to experience them a dozen more times each before I left to make sure they would be imprinted into my memory. Arizona I love, but for different reasons; mostly the warm weather and all the family nearby, but it cannot compare to the history and character of this immaculate city.

Returning home that evening from my friend’s house, I had another realization. I was cruising down the freeway and was blissfully singing along to the radio. There was a good song on the radio, but most importantly I was alone which meant I could sing right along. country station, (because it is banned when Sam is in the car), All of a sudden, I was forced off of I-93. The right lane I was driving in suddenly became an exit-only lane, except with absolutely no warning! No merge sign. No big yellow warning signs at a half mile and then a quarter mile, (as I was accustomed to seeing on the west coast). Just bang! You’re off the freeway. Determined not to let the Boston roads prevail, I tried to remember my chipper mood just moments before, and forced myself to stay calm. I took a deep breath and told myself, “That’s fine. I will just get right back on the freeway. No problem.” Only there was a problem.

I was suddenly in an unfamiliar city, which in itself is a bad omen if you are driving in Massachusetts, but then also found myself at an intersection that in no way resembled a grid. There were five roads that met at odd angles with a few round-a-bouts to add to the confusion. There were no big signs that in any way said, “If you want to get back on the freeway going south, towards Boston-take this road.” I proceeded slowly, just enough to appear cautious, while in actuality trying desperately to read all of the street signs in an attempt to interpret one of them to mean, “I-93 South-this way.” I got excited when I saw one sign for route _____, which sounded familiar, except the sign directed towards route ___ east and west , and I thought it ran from north to south. Even more frustrating-I could see the freeway, it was right there, only no way to get back on it. Five minutes later I was still circling within the crazy intersection, which I viewed as an accomplishment because it meant that at least I hadn’t gotten sucked on to some unknown road going to who knows where, although I was really no closer to finding an onramp to the freeway. After some frantic flipping of the map book (describe it-what brand is it? Vital, required) I decided to follow route ______ which I believed would take me towards ___________.>>>>>Eventually, with detours through _______and Cambridge I found myself back on I-93 and drove back over the Zakim bridge. This time I realized that there are parts of Boston that I love, that I would miss it, but am relieved I will be leaving and ecstatic that it will be to a city with straight, clearly marked roads.

Maybe something about how I will still use this last year to do all the things here I always wanted to do.

Now that I knew where I was and was out of danger of getting lost I called Chris on the phone to tell her of my epiphany. After she got a good laugh at my expense, she confessed she had been feeling the same way. We decided we needed a plan for our last year here, so we organized a last minute girls night out. I called Kim and Chris called Jamie and we met for hot chocolate at the Panera Bread next to North Quincy station.

“I can’t believe this will be our last year here.”

“Good riddance”

“I am going to have our Uhaul packed and ready to go so we can leave straight from Dave’s graduation.”

“Okay Chris and I were talking and one of the things we decided is that if we are all waiting for the year to end, it is going to drag on for-e-ver!”

“Yea, so we were thinking that in order to make the time fly we have to make sure we are constantly enjoying ourselves.”

“You know, we will have all of these plans, so many in fact that we won’t be able to fit them all in because there just won’t be enough time.”

“Exactly! And before you know it our husbands will be in their caps and gowns and we will be the wives of Doctors!”

“I’m in!”

“Me too!”

“So, what is there to do that we haven’t gotten around to in the last three years?”

“ummmm.”

“well, we could….”

“Oh I know!” Finally I remembered one of my ideas, “Visit the John Adams House. I must drive past it 5 times a week and yet I have never been in it. I don’t know, maybe there is a reason, it’s probably lame.”

“Nope, it’s going on the list. Who is writing these down?”

Blank stares all around as we start rummaging through our purses to find a paper and a pen. Plenty of baby wipes, and spare snacks, and broken crayons, but hardly anything that is useful.

“Okay, I’ve got a pen!”

“Finally!”

“But nothing to write on.”

“here you go” hand her a napkin..

1. Take a tour of the John adams House

2. Tour the Church in Quincy center, the one in the middle of the road

3. take the ferry to martha’s vineyard

4. spend a day on Nantucket island

5. go ice skating on the frog pond

6. Go on a fall foliage drive

7. Go to NY

8. Go to the Macy’s day parade

9. spend thanksgiving in Plymouth

10. Tour old ironsides

11. watch fireworks over the charles river

12. Go Apple picking

13. ride the swan boats

chapter 9 - my favorite color

When my daughter was about 3 she asked me, "Mommy, what is your favorite color?" I thought for a second and then realized I didn't really have one. I like certain colors of clothes, and other colors for home decorating, but I didn't really have a favorite color. I didn't like the feeling I got about that, who doesn't have a favorite color? What kind of a person doesn't know enough about what they like and don't like, that they don't even know what their favorite color is? So I thought about it, and I ran through all the colors in my head. When I thought about each color, almost nothing came to me, until I got to yellow. When I see yellow, I think "happy", sunshine, and flowers and smiley faces. So I chose, right then, and told my little girl, "Yellow. Yellow is my favorite color because it makes me happy." I don't decorate my house in yellow, and I don't have tons of yellow clothes, and I don't choose yellow everything, but I don't think that is a requirement for a favorite color. This led me to think about what my other favorites were. What is my favorite movie? My favorite meal? My favorite book? It was a total Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride kind of moment.  I wanted to figure out the answers to all of these basic questions and now I just needed to figure out how, just how I could figure it out.


This also made me think back to when I remembered how much I loved reading.  I wondered how many other things had I already figured out, but had let get lost in my previous busy life.