because.
 
 

November 12
 
 

 
 
 

A few years ago I was in Boston with Nick.  He was there for a conference or a class:  we'd gone twice and stayed twice  within a few months, so I get confused as to which time was which time and why we were there for which time, but it was December, and we'd gone our seperate ways early in the morning, agreeing to meet up back at the hotel where all the stuff was happening, later.  Later, of course, being hours and hours in the future, which was great for me.  I love Boston.

It was a warm, warm day, strangely so, considering it was only a few weeks befor Christmas, but I remember being happy about it because I had to spend so much time walking around, and remember how friendly and happy everyone on the street seemed, the warm weather being welcome, considering the shittycold winter to come.  I parked the car and walked up Newbury Street, window shopping and smoking and trying to figure out exactly where the hotel was, the one I needed to find.  After wandering aimlessly towards what I thought was the right place, I decided to ask a fine officer of the law to no avail.  (Note to Boston cops:  You are about as helpful as a sack of shit.)
 

Long story short, I find the hotel.  I see where Nick is.  I learn that he is nowhere near ready (perhaps because I'm 2 hours early?)  and I leave again, to explore the mall I've discovered (not like Blackbeard or something.  "Ahoy there, matey! It's a MALL!  Arrrh!! I'll be naming her Shoppingtown!"  I know, Blackbeard was a pirate, not a discoverer.  Shut up.) because I have all of this free time, and because I like malls.

I cross the street and wander around.  I buy a few Christmas gifts.  I get a cup of coffee.  I am in full tilt mosey, time wasting, happy consumer mode, and I step into a department store.  I do not know which one it was, we'll say Filene's, because it is Boston, and because it was very likely to have actually been Filene's.

I enter Filene's in the makeup department.  It is busy, these are the holidays.  I pass through, unscathed, I have the beauty of being an aimless shopper.  I don't need anything, no, I have a low grade greedy want, but nothing all consuming, because again, I am Christmas shopping.  I already have bags filled with gifts.  I continue walking through the store, toward the exit, I suppose, because it is getting near the agreed meeting time, and I come to a table filled with snow globes.

I love snow globes.  I don't think that that's something I've ever talked about, or ever even really acknowledged except in passing.  I love the gentle shake, the resulting fall.  I love snow globes.  I stop at the table, and I see that they are snow globes representing different cities.  I lift Paris, I notice that these globes also play music, and I see New York.  I pick it up, I turn the metal dial, and it plays some New York song, I can not remember which one it was, but I a stare and stare at the tiny, perfect skyline enlosed in the globe, the Twin Towers.  The Statue of Liberty, The Empire State Building, the Brooklyn Bridge.

The next thing I know, I am weeping, holding the heavy glass globe in my hands.  A sales woman comes over.  She asks me if I am allright.  She reaches out and touches my arm.  I cry on her shoulder as though she is my mother, as though my heart has been broken.

And then, as suddenly as the tears came, they stop.  This kind woman goes to get me a tissue.  I put the globe back.  I blow my nose, I thank her, I walk away.  I don't buy the globe, and until very recently forget that it even happened, and it was the first time, I think, I became aware of what being homesick what like.

I remembered this, only recently because I was looking for...something, you know how it is when you surf?  You are looking for this, and wind up here, with that?  I was looking for that, and found this, and when I found it,  it came back to me:  the department store, Boston, the table of globes, and again, I started to cry, without even having the benefit of knowing what it song it played or what floated around when it was shaken up.

I don't know why; it's hard to describe what triggers tears or memory, and I don't know, now, that I will ever forget the snowglobe at Filene's.  In fact, I am fairly sure that any time I ever see a snow globe, I will think of New York, and how fragile it's turned out to be.
 
 

back - home - tomorrow - email