48 Hours in Boston

I'm sitting at the airport waiting to board my flight home, and I keep thinking...how did so much fit into two days?

Blake had a work conference in Boston, so I tagged along. My parents took the girls for four nights, which felt like such a gift. I missed them the second we left, but I also knew this was something we needed.

Getting here was a disaster. Delays. Sitting on the tarmac forever. One of those travel days where you're wondering if it's even worth leaving home.

Then we landed.

Within an hour I wasn't even thinking about it anymore.

Boston has this energy about it. It feels old in the best way. Every street has a story. Every building makes you stop and look up. You can spend hours walking and never feel like you're walking just to get somewhere. You're walking because you want to see what's around the next corner.

Our first night we headed to the North End, and I think that's when it really hit me.

Blake and I met in Denver over eleven years ago. Before careers, before businesses, before kids, before mortgages...this was our thing. We'd wander. We'd find random bars. We'd order another drink because neither of us had anywhere to be in the morning. We'd eat dinner way too late and somehow end up walking another few miles just talking.

I hadn't thought about that version of us in a long time.

Not because I miss it.

I don't.

I love the life we've built. I love our girls. I love the beautiful chaos of this season.

But somewhere along the way, it's easy to become mom and dad. To become the people managing schedules, paying bills, running businesses, making dinner, getting everyone where they need to be.

Boston reminded me that underneath all of that, we're still the same two people who genuinely love hanging out together.

And honestly...that felt really good.

We wandered the cobblestone streets, stopped outside Paul Revere's house, ducked into little bars that all seemed to have been there forever, and had dinner at this incredible old Italian restaurant tucked inside what felt like someone's historic home.

It wasn't fancy because it was fancy.

It was special because we weren't rushing.

The next morning Blake headed to his conference, and I had the entire day to myself.

I forgot how much I love being alone in a city.

I grabbed coffee.

Walked until my feet hurt.

Found an IPA on a little patio.

Found the cutest Dominican cacao bar and obviously couldn't leave without chocolate.

Stopped at a James Beard Award Winning Restaurant.

Walked the harbor.

Watched people.

Kept walking.

It reminded me so much of living in Chicago and Denver.

Sometimes I miss that kind of life. Being able to walk everywhere. Stumbling into places you never planned on finding.

Then I caught myself thinking...

I'll do this again someday with my girls.

They're just not old enough yet.

Right now they'd last about three blocks before someone needed a snack or wanted to be carried.

And honestly...I can't wait for that version either.

One of my favorite parts of the whole trip happened completely by accident.

I noticed two of my college friends were also in Boston. They were going to Fenway that night, and somehow the seats directly next to them were available.

How does that even happen?

Then, before the game, I literally ran into them while walking along the harbor.

Out of this entire city.

No plans.

No texts.

Just...there they were.

Life is so weird sometimes.

Fenway was unreal.

The oldest ballpark in baseball. So much history. Everyone singing. Everyone cheering. It felt like one giant celebration.

Then there was the food.

The Italian dinner.

The James Beard restaurant with the most incredible meze and fresh pita.

And what was easily the best massage I've ever had.

Worth every incredibly expensive penny.

Thanks, babe.

But if I'm being honest, none of those things are really what I'm taking home.

I'm taking home the reminder.

The reminder that slowing down isn't wasting time.

That wandering without a plan is still one of my favorite things to do.

That I still love cities.

That I still love getting wonderfully lost.

That I really, really like my husband.

And maybe that's what this trip gave me more than anything.

Not some huge life lesson.

Just a quiet reminder of where we started.

And how much I love where we are now.

Anyway...

They're boarding my flight.

I'm ready to hug my girls, sleep in my own bed, and get back to our little life.

But Boston...I'll definitely be back.