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  • Home is when you go there, they've got to let you in.

    My family emigrated from Buenos Aires to Boston when I was nearly 3. We lived near my aunt and her family in the outskirts of Boston and used to go into the city on the elevated subway about twice a year. We got dressed up in our patent leather shoes and white gloves and sat like ladies looking out the windows across from us. My mother gripped me by the hand as we exited the train and the station so I wouldn't wander off and get stolen or lost.

    It's easy to get lost in Boston and a hellish place to drive because it's an unplanned city. Cows, meandering down the hill towards the Boston Common - the grazing fields in the early days- created paths that determined the layout of the streets. They bend around on each other and slide up against other streets until you get so lost that you come upon your destination by accident. I love that unless I'm trying to get somewhere on time. Not even a GPS can save you in Boston. And everywhere you turn is a historical marker that you have to stop and read or an old cemetery begging to have its picture taken.

    We have accents in Boston, or so I'm told, but you couldn't tell from my speech. Too many years of teaching English... But I do say "wicked" and "cool" a lot, that gives me away on occasion and makes the Townies smile. I hope someday to live someplace else, to encounter the world. I've even considered Europe for a couple of reasons, but my kids throw fits when I do. No matter where I end up, I know I'll always come back here, to Boston because when I come home, they've got to let me in.
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