-- the combination of the weather and certain music on my iPod makes my memory extremely selective. I remember my first sight of Boston proper -- staring down the handsome faces of the Commonwealth Avenue brownstones -- the magnolias dripping pink and white -- freshman year, wandering around Cambridge near the old warehouse building that now houses the MIT Museum before and after the first studio, smelling fake chocolate and mint from the nearby factory -- sophomore year, coming into Boston with the rest of the girls in the third studio, totally exhausted, laughing as the people who took the bus were delayed further and further as we strode out across the bridge; that spring melting into the long summer, getting sunburned as I wandered down Shawmut Street and took pictures, the tanginess of a salmon sandwich eaten at a window seat in the buttery; walking down to the waterfront by the ICA and later with Alyssa, getting soaked through to the skin while we stood pressed against the wall of the Chanel store -- junior year, the night walks, down Boylston at all hours -- camping with Marilyn in the women's lounge during spring break, slowly and solemnly playing chess with the enormous plastic pieces a the children's museum -- now.
I love Boston.
It is not my home -- and I will not be here in ten years -- but I think this is the place that I have, at the very least, started to become an adult -- and I will remember spring in Boston in my store of beautiful things-to-hold --
-- and I hope, I hope hungrily, that I will love another city as much.