I walked by the harbor today. Took the commuter rail to South Station and walked and walked and walked. I’ve been sitting too much the last few days. Sitting and driving. Sitting and eating. Sitting and watching a tv show on my laptop.
At Tess’ suggestion, I started watching For All Mankind a couple of weeks ago. It is fabulous. When it first came out, the alternate history annoyed me. I’d just published a book of real history and I wanted to fight for it. Now I’m loving luxuriating in what could have been. I cried when the ERA was ratified in the first season.
The first episodes of the fifth season are just being released now, so I’m catching up. I’ve made it to season four, which is 2003 in their timeline. Al Gore is president. It’s nice. The last episode of season three was packed with so much plot that I got a little overwhelmed. I had to keep pausing. This season has fewer storylines and a little more cynicism.
Today, though, my Apple Watch was concerned that I was slacking, so into town I went. To the sea. It was cold and blustery. My hair was still wet from my shower when I emerged from South Station into the gray day and ocean breeze. I took a picture of the Tea Party ship for an Irish friend I met in a pub in London, then I ducked into the Intercontinental to send the picture and warm up.
Then it was back outside, along the Harborwalk up to the Aquarium. Then across to the Greenway to walk the labyrinth. I only took the path in, skipped straight out. I walked more, looped back, ate a burger. Walked to Rowe’s Wharf, got a coffee, then decided to head back to Roslindale. I was getting weary.
I found my way to the Orange Line, ducking in under the Old State House, where the opening of my book takes place. I always enjoy the frisson from being near it. When the train got to Downtown Crossing, I happened to look up where Mitra was, and she was right on top of me. I jumped off the train and called her. She was upstairs shopping at Macy’s. We had coffee together. Then I got back on the train.
I decided to read more poetry for you, and dug into the box I have of my Mom’s books. I pulled out her copy of Marge Piercy’s Living in the Open and turned to the poem I read below, “Healing of Weariness, which fit perfectly with where I am right now. Ain’t poetry cool that way.
VIDEO OF ME READING BELOW
