It took a little while to get to the front of the line, but eventually we boarded and understood what all the fuss was about. It was a gorgeous and largely silent paddle around the small lake, under the bridge, around the duck pond - the setting of Make Way for Ducklings. The kids and I stretched our legs in the sun, spotted turtles and gloried in the beautiful setting.
A city park, done properly, is an oasis in the concrete and the Common and Public Gardens were done very properly. We wandered the pathways while Elizabeth pet every dog in the Boston area. My girl loves animals and every canine who crossed our path was treated to a pat, a kiss, and a "you're a pretty boy" from my little four year old.
There were four things we needed to do to complete our trip.
First, we had to get a large box of Mike's pastries. I planned to carry them on board the plane and deliver them safely to their lovely recipients.
Second, we had to eat lunch in the North End again.
Third, we needed to buy souvenirs.
Fourth, we needed to play in one of the many water parks sprinkled throughout the city and apparently, the Frog Pond wasn't enough.
We hopped off the subway and walked to eat at a lovely and quiet Italian restaurant. By this time, we'd added a Mallard to our entourage.
"Do you allow ducks in your restaurant," Joseph asked the hostess.
She looked at him in bemusement and then to the small stuffed duck tucked in his arms. "We do," she said gamely.
"Great! He's really wanting some pasta."
We sat and ate in the cool darkness of the restaurant. It wasn't the most amazing pasta, but it was a welcome break from the hectic heat of the city. Afterwards, we went to Mike's and got our giant box of pastries followed by gelato on the street corner.
Their faces sticky, we started back across the street to the splash pads where children ran and shrieked between bursts of cold water. Of course, they needed to use a bathroom and with no public restrooms in sight, we wandered into a dark pub facing the street.
The woman behind the bar had frizzy blond hair scraped back from her face into a ponytail. She wiped the counter with freckled arms and spoke with the thick accent I'd grown to adore. She pointed us downstairs to the bathrooms. We clomped down the worn carpet, the smell of stale whiskey and fried foods filling the air. The bathroom was located at the end of a narrow hall. While it wasn't seedy, it was close. And there were were, my gingers and I with our stuffed mallard duck and silver swan boat bracelets. My overactive imagination had a poker game going in a back room and some sort shady deal being conducted in the dim lights of the basement.
We left the pub with a wave and a thank you and went back to the water area where the kids ran through the sprinklers again. It struck me, as it had on the Common, how temporary we were in ebb and flow of this city. We'd be thousands of miles away in 24 hours. Our place on the Freedom Trail would be taken by another family from another place and the city would continue on without the slightest difference. Our feet crossed stones smoothed by hundreds of years of traffic and we were just a tiny second, a blip in the larger picture. For a moment, just a moment, I imagined living there in the shadows of North Church. I imagined the water park being "our" park, the Italian restaurant "our place". I pictured us, living above a pastry shop and eating gelato after school. I could see us entering the bloodstream of the city and becoming a part of the people streaming past us on their way to work.
Then I sighed, and picked up my camera, gesturing to my loves that it was time to go.
We walked back to Quincy Market, spending more time than we should have picking up souvenirs and mementos as if they'd preserve the feeling we had right then at the tail end of our vacation. With full bags, we trod across the uneven cobblestones and to the subway, making our way back to the hotel for the last time.
We changed into swimsuits as the sun set the building aglow and went downstairs to the hot tub. We soaked, we splashed, we kept one eye on the clock. We thought about ordering room service or take out, but instead went downstairs to the restaurant. We sat, exhausted, while the waitress brought us our order.
I carried Elizabeth to the elevator and we took one last ride up. The kids showered and changed into the clothes they'd fly in. I put their sweatshirts at the foot of the bed. They crawled between the cool sheets and fell asleep before I'd finished brushing my teeth. I packed the last of our things, tucking a snow globe and coffee mug between new t-shirts and sweatshirts. I called the front desk and asked for a 3:30 a.m. wake up call and bell hop. And then, I lay down in my own flying clothes and closed my eyes.
We left early the next morning, before Dunkin' had opened their doors, before the lights paving the Freedom Trail had flickered out, before the sun rose over the ocean. We checked all of our bags and shuffled onto our flight. We sat in our seats, closed our eyes and left the East Coast behind.
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