Summer Street and Magners.

Today I had a bad day. My car troubles are not yet over, despite the fact that I have bought a new one. The old one died, the new one is taking forever to be ready for me to pick up... its a mess. Going to and from work now takes me an hour and a half, but at least I can read on the way I guess. Not so easy when one is driving. ....Not so safe, either.

When the bus got to South Station, I was not yet ready to go home. Home is a bit of a place of mystery at the moment, based upon the ever-changing moods of one particular person, and I needed a few minutes to myself before I could even begin to muster the strength to enter. What to do when near South Station and a few minutes of gather-thy-self-togetherness is needed?

Go to the bridge.

So I did. I walked across the Summer Street bridge, stopping every now and again to look at the water, and then turned around a walked back. The wind blowing in my hair, the smell of salt in the air, the sound of the water below, and Boston's Financial District in the background, I was able to calm myself as I always can do in this spot. My bridge. Despite others who may try to claim it. We can take it outside.

Once home, it was immediately to a bath, a Magners cider, and a book. Finally, I was able to re-enter the world as a functional and pleasant human being. I love having a tub. I love having a bridge. All I need to make now is a head-hug. This is the hug where one arm goes around your waist and another cradles your head - the best kind to make a person feel loved and safe and that everything's going to be OK. Few in this world do this for me without being asked. Soon, I hope I will meet one of them again. For now, to Elora Dannon and dreams I go.