And they’re always glad you came. Do I miss Boston? Does a bear shit in the woods? I can’t even begin to describe how much I long for that city. I love the smell of the T, the Celtics, the fact that the letter R is suspiciously missing from the alphabet of 99.9% of true Bostonians, I love the rich history, the people, just everything really, there isn’t much about Boston I’m not totally in love with. The fact of the matter is I don’t hate my life here in Connecti-shit. I love my husband and my dog. Life is good. I have a job that pays bills, a yard and a nice house. I can’t say that my situation here is sub-par. I have everything I need to make a sweet go of it. I lived in Boston for a little over a year in 2002. I was right in the heart of Jamaica Plain, and despite having strange, loud roommates that smelt funny I loved every moment. I had started dating Mick who was still living in CT right before I left and he would come to visit 3 days a week and we spent every weekend together. Our little Plymouth Neon, Boris is a tank and thanks to him we got to see each other almost everyday. Once Mick proposed and I decided to continue my education it became apparent quite quickly that living in Connecti-shit was going to be much easier. We would be surrounded by family which is awesome, and living outside a city is far cheaper then living right in one, and this is not even taking into account that college would be worlds less expensive in CT as I was still eligible for in-state tuition. So the decision was made to move once more. I packed up my life in Boston and trotted back to a promising new start in my birth state. I started missing Boston the first day I moved back to CT and I’ve missed it everyday since. If I could pack up Mick, my family, Harley, our friends and our house and drop it in the middle of Beantown I totally would. It’s not like we never get to the city. We take like 4-5 trips up a year. We go to catch Celtic games and to shop Newbury street and chill in Harvard Square. The thing I miss most is the Celtic games. Mick and I would go to almost every home game and we caught most of the 2002 playoffs right up to the eastern conference finals with the Nets. It was just sweet beyond words. If there was an away game we’d watch it at the bar down the block from me called Flanagans. I felt so content while I was living in Boston. It was home, and always will be.
