a wolf angel is not a good angel

I finally made it to Boston. And it was a good day to go, as it poured all day here. It poured only a little there, and since it looked like rain was imminent all the time, I was never far from cover.

I got to meet him again, and found out that he lives in Boston, which was why he was there. In my head — and I do not know why — he was elsewhere, possibly Pennsylvania. I also met her, though somehow I did not recognise that the woman standing next to me, with a small boy in a TtFTE t-shirt, a Red Sox hat and carting around a stuffed puppy and with an even smaller girl carrying around Thomas himself was indeed the person I was trying to meet. Observant? You bet. And I met her, and I had no weird misconceptions about where she lived, and I didn’t need to recognise her because Phantom did, and she very kindly went into touristy shops and listened to my babbling and didn’t laugh when I jumped out of my seat everytime the foghorns blared. All in all, it was a lovely day, with great company.

On the way back, some woman carrying around a toddler came up to me in the parking lot, in tears. She was lost, she needed to get to Maine, she’d been lost for hours and couldn’t find anyone to ask. I started to point her to the signs on the highway (not 30 seconds away — visible, in fact, from where she was standing), then said that I was heading up that way as well (though she was going somewhat further north) and that she could just follow me and I would get her to the highway. And she did, and I watched for her until she was in Maine. I hope she found her way there.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, July 11th, 2006 at 11:58 pm and is filed under the concept of 'blog', Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.