A Tale of Love and Loss

When I told people I was moving to Boston, I was generally met by two reactions: "You'll love Boston" or "Winters are so cold there." Not once did a single person say anything about the wind. The other week as I was walking from my office to the T to catch a train to class,I was literally pushed of course and held at bay by the wind for the first time in my life. Perhaps wind is simply a part of coastal life, and yes Boston is coastal for me, but considering its prevalence in the weather of this region I would think someone would have mentioned it. The wind is not always inimical, however; I welcomed the heavy breezes that tempered the sultry 90 degree weather we experienced yesterday. April has no business being sultry. But as it so happens, the windiest days correspond with the mornings when, due to some degree of laziness or whimsy, I decide to wear hair ribbons.

Yesterday was one of those days. I'd washed my hair and in a small fit of vanity decided to blow dry and straighten it instead of merely braiding it back. I was in a hurry to catch my bus, however, and after briefly flirting with the notion of leaving my hair down entirely (I had straightened it after all), I fished out my blue ribbon and slipped it on. There is something about wearing a hair ribbon that plays to my notion of femininity, and it did coordinate with the blue in my shirt ever so well if I do say so myself. But in the walk from work to the T and the T to class that afternoon the wind insisted on tossing my hair about this way and that and back in my face, as it is wont to do. So when I got to the building where my class is held I stepped into the ladies room and pulled it back into a ponytail. I decided to leave the ribbon on my head though because it did match and was an interesting little touch that I don't usually bother with--I generally prefer the less is more approach.

After class we wandered around looking for a place for food and drinks--it was the last time Michael Patrick Hearne would be in class--but because it was the last Red Sox vs. Yankees game for this little series here in Boston we had to wander a fair ways a way before we found a place that would suit. I was pleased with myself, however, that the wind and the heat were not bothering me at all. I had shown them! It was not until several hours later, when I reached up to adjust some stray strand of hair that I discovered the wind had had the last laugh after all. My hair ribbon was no longer there. It had been plucked off of my head by that roguish waft and was, as Owen once said, "out in the windy day."

So long blue hair ribbon. I will miss you and the way you coordinated with a surprising number of my clothes, which should perhaps not be so surprising because blue is my favorite color. Wind you may be a rascal and I don't like you in the rain (and perhaps not on a train) but I forgive you because you're a part of Boston life.