I’m in Burlington, Vermont, on a reporting trip. Not too many tourists (by which I mean none) on the waterfront this morning.
The view from Pavement Coffeehouse on Gainsborough Street in Boston a little over an hour ago.
I decided to hike the Skyline Trail today rather than go running. We took the Webelos there about 14 years ago, but this was my first time since then. It’s a serious hike — about seven miles of rocky terrain with a lot of steep ups and downs. Not quite New Hampshire, but definitely reminiscent of the Berkshires and the Green Mountains. It’s a pretty amazing resource to have so close to the city.
Because today was a rare beautiful day, I took a walk this afternoon through Oak Grove Cemetery in Medford, which is down the street from our house. The snow was so deep that it reached up near the tops of the gravestones — an eerie sight even in the bright sunlight.
I came across a middle-aged man and woman. She was sitting in the passenger seat of a parked car. He was trying to make his way through deep snow toward a grave, holding a brightly colored balloon that proclaimed “Happy Birthday!”
Whose grave were they visiting? A parent’s? No, that’s not what I was really thinking. A child’s? The passage of time must have healed whatever pain they had lived through, because they seemed to be in a light-hearted mood. I heard the theme from “Rocky” as he closed in on his destination (“Da-da-daaaa! Da-da-daaaa!”)
All of us eavesdrop on the lives of others every day. For whatever reason, this one stuck with me.