Trip back in time.

I think I've established a pattern. You see, it takes me about 11 years to return to a former hometown after having moved on. In 1988, my family moved away from Hong Kong for good. My next visit was in 1999, on the way home from my mission in Taiwan. I lived in Boston for my first two years of college and was last there in the spring of 1997. I did not make it back until this past weekend, 2008. I'm not sure why it is that I allow so much time to elapse before revisiting the fond memories and friendships that were created in these places. All I know is, after this weekend, I am determined to not let it happen again.
Here's how it all went down (minus some untaken pictures, since I have also made it a habit to only take pictures of my family, who did not join me for my trip): I spent Saturday reconnecting with a couple of old friends, one a former roommate, and the other a former singing buddy from my a cappella group. I know it's cliche, but it was as if not a day had passed since last seeing them. We were able to instantly reconnect as if we did not have ten years, master's degrees, careers, marriage, and children under our belts. It was great to see you guys!

I enjoyed a long nap after church on Sunday, a rarity at my house and then bounced out the door to revisit my old stomping grounds at BU. Sadly, the GSU, where I ate many of my meals, sang in a number of Terps performances and logged dozens of hours in my job at the Student Activities Office, was closed for summer hours. I got a nice little shot of the old Wellness House, strolled down Comm. Ave., circled Fenway Park (pretty much a stone's throw from my old house), and jumped on the T to head out to Harvard Square where I used to attend Sunday meetings.

A bit concerned that I had forgotten how to get to the chapel, I expected to ask directions of some innocent pedestrian. As I exited the Harvard Square T stop, though, it was if the automatic pilot kicked in and, after a few intuitive steps and turns, I ended up across the street from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's house, where the LDS chapel sits. Tours of Longfellow's house had ended for the day, so I resigned myself to a self-guided tour of the grounds and a token shot of the front.

I slept in Monday morning, as per my husband's request that I actually vacation instead of run myself ragged and then headed out with my former mission companion (with whom I was staying) to tackle the Freedom Trail. We kicked it off with a visit to Chinatown, where we indulged in mango bubble tea, a type of pureed mango smoothie with small glutenous rice balls called zhen zhu. Mmmm. Taiwan revisited. It ended with a delicious pasta dinner in the North End, the Boston area's Italian neighborhood, and a canoli from Mike's Pastries. That was one Boston memory I was more than happy to revive.

Tuesday we fit in a drive to Concord, where we toured the Old Manse, a house owned by the Emerson family (as in Ralph Waldo) that had Nathaniel Hawthorne and his new bride as its renters for 3 years. History written all over that building, literally. Walked across the site of the battle at Lexington and Concord, drove around Walden Pond, visited the graves of some literary greats; it was a history and literature lover's paradise.

I love Boston. And I love the memories I made there. Two of the most poignant feelings I had while there were these:

1. I'm no longer 18 years old. With several years of experiences under my belt, I think I enjoyed myself more fully even than I did as a carefree youngster. Oh, and the extra spending money didn't hurt either.

2. I wanted my family there with me. It was especially nice to not have to cater to naptimes and tantrums. But I also kept thinking how much Tim would have loved this, or Anna would have loved that and it made me realize that the people with whom we make memories are far more valuable than the places in which we make them. I was glad that my friends filled the void with good conversation. Next time, I'm bringing the fam. Next time will hopefully not be 11 years from now.