Melancholy

I had such bitter sweet feelings as I drove home from Boston. At that time it had been just over a few days since the 7 year anniversary of when my friend Andy passed away. He and I never actually hung out in Boston together. I knew him from our time in New York. I knew Boston was his stopping ground when he was young.

I also remember when I was 18 and just starting college I would go visit my friend Bryan he was up there. My first trip, it was October of my freshman year. My university was going on a trip to see a Red Sox game. I hate the Red Sox. But we would have free time in Boston. So I decided to go just for the free time so I could visit Bryan. On my 1st Spring break I went to visit Boston and visited Bryan. I remember he played songs from Rent on the piano and we sang duets together.

I remember in my late twenties going up to visit my then friend Jess and meeting one of her friends and how that experience led to a couple of fantastic trips — California during The Golden Globes and The Oscars and then The Cannes Film Festival. Before the film festival I did 2 weeks alone in Italy after the festival I did an additional couple of weeks in France and Spain. It was my first trip back to Europe since my senior year of high school. I was supposed to visit Paris once again and then visit Normandy where my Grandfather was on D-Day. However as I landed at Charles De Gull I learned of my Grandfather’s passing and I flew home.

I remember in my very early Thirties flying into Logan Airport and realizing I had 42 cents left in my bank account after a trip to Iceland. I miss those days of all the travel I used to do where I could just go online, find a flight, and book it without a thought or care and in the world about the consequences. Or I could get up get in the car and drive that day to anywhere I wanted to and it did not matter because I didn’t have a responsibility to be anywhere.

I love my child. Don’t get me wrong. I truly love him. But every once in awhile, like after being in Montreal and then Boston the following week I feel awfully melancholy for a time long gone.