Living in the Boston area never bored me. I attended a yoga class with my girls where Maria helped Beth into some tricky body positions. On the weekends, John and I discovered interesting places in our big backyard, including Plymouth Rock, Arnold Arboretum, Thoreau’s Walden Pond, President John Adams’ residence in Quincy, and the John F. Kennedy Museum.
Busy on weekdays with our jobs, John and I traveled on a weekend to Cape Cod for an extraordinary trip. From Sandwich to Provincetown, we viewed swimming seals and beautiful beaches. Another weekend, we drove an hour to Salem and the Witch History Museum.
I particularly loved the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem, full of treasures brought to Salem by sea captains who traveled to the Orient.
Ben graduated with his master’s degree from Brandeis University and applied for jobs in the Boston area, accepting one in the office of Harvard’s Registrar. He avoided driving in the crowded streets of Cambridge, and preferred to take a bus to work instead. Ben made plans to apply to graduate schools for a doctorate in literature.
Maria taught through the summer again, working in the same Cambridge Public School program for preschoolers with disabilities. I continued to help with field trips, proud of how Maria connected with her students. All of them learned how to communicate more effectively, including the children who didn’t speak.
In August, Beth packed her suitcases to get ready to fly across the country, again.
This time, she would take her place in the Stanford Law Class of 2012.
John and I searched for simple, sparse furnishings for our new Massachusetts apartment in many stores. I shopped with Maria, too, and we checked sales and clearance racks for good deals as always. John teased about metal shelving units in all the rooms, and made do with just one in the garage.
We displayed family pictures everywhere.
Our furniture matched for the first time, and I got a kick out of shopping for kitchen towels with a red theme. I found some with brightly-colored poppies, complimenting a set of red bowls with white polka dots.
Medication kept the lid on my depression, but failed to stop the headache. The pain level cycled, as always. with my heartbeat throbbing in my head during peak times. The base level had continued to increase very gradually since the onset. Even so, I appreciated the fact that the base level of the headache was manageable.
I walked up and down Bear Hill for exercise and helped John get his classroom ready. He had extra work to prepare to teach in a new school system in a new state. He reviewed the curriculum, all new to him. He also had to schedule and study for the teaching tests Massachusetts required, despite his National Board Certification and 30 years of experience. I debated about when to apply for a job. John suggested I postpone job applications until after the Beijing Paralympics, a year away. That was an event I wouldn’t miss, and I planned to stay in China for an extended time.
We talked to Beth on the phone from her team camp at the Olympic Training Center in Colorado as they prepared for another adventure in another country.
I shared our new Massachusetts address with family and friends. It turned out to be the wrong address. In mid-July, our new apartment waiting, John and I drove to Massachusetts from Ohio. Beth chose to stay in the Tiffin apartment by herself for less than a week, to continue swim training. I would return to Ohio in five days later. She spent time with Ellen and Lizzy. Peggy drove her to and from swim practices.
When John and I arrived at Watertown Square in a heavy car, the wrong apartment waited for us. The leasing staff apologized for their mistake and significantly dropped the rent at another, nicer complex owned by the same company. Instead of unloading the car in Watertown Square, we drove a little farther to the next suburb, Waltham. We chose an apartment with big windows at the top of Bear Hill where chipmunks played on the balcony. The downside? It extended John’s commute to work a little, and our rent would jump to the usual higher rate, over $2,000 a month, after a year. In the meantime, we could live in an upscale, fancy, sunny, spacious apartment. We called Macy’s to change the delivery address for our new mattresses and unloaded the car.
We made several phone calls to family with our correct address.
John picked out our first flat screen TV, and we set out on a mission to find the perfect sofa. We also stocked up on groceries for our empty kitchen. The second day, we perused more sofas from Dedham to Natick to Burlington. The third day, we bought the first sofa we had liked on the first day, a wine-colored reclining sectional. It would move with us three times.
I left John in Waltham without a car, but with Maria not far away. I drove back to Ohio by myself, singing with CDs most of the way. In Tiffin, Beth and I folded clothes at a laundromat and packed for her training camp in Colorado and the Brazil games after. Sad to end their long Tiffin history, Beth said goodbye to Ellen and Lizzy. I’d miss her friends, too.
I dropped Beth and Peggy off at the Detroit airport. Then I sold the beds, emptied the apartment, loaded the car, and gave away the rest. I headed east, excited for the new beginning. I replayed my favorite Joshua Radin song, “Everything’ll Be Alright.”
Wherever we lived, John made it my home.
When I arrived back in Waltham, our apartment only had a sofa, a TV on the floor, and two mattresses. I unpacked my grandma’s etched crystal bowl for the kitchen counter and added fresh fruit.
My African violets survived the car ride and found new sunny windows to love at the top of Bear Hill.
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