Walk along the Charles

Last week I had a psychiatric consultation in Downtown Crossing, Boston. I felt happy as I left. The consult had taken about 40 minutes. Although I had plenty of tasks to accomplish at home, I decided to walk to the Charles/MGH stop of the Red Line. As is my wont, my walking ambitions grew as I walked; on my way across the Common, I decided to walk along the Charles River and cross the Mass Ave Bridge, heading for MIT; there’s a Red Line stop there.

That morning, I would have said I didn’t have time to walk. But many years ago, Jim advised a stressed-out client to paint his office. Change of pace. Taking charge of a small thing (though painting an office sounds daunting). So, walking toward home through Boston and Cambridge was my painting job. I calculated that I would arrive home about 6:30 p.m.: a four-hour walk, roughly a half-marathon. It was getting dark by 4:30, at about the time I got to the bike path, so I headed towards Mass Ave on Lake St. in Arlington. When my phone battery was down to 6%, I emailed Jim and turned off Runkeeper, my GPS app. Jim called me (4% battery life) just as I passed the Blue Ribbon BBQ restaurant, nine and a half miles into my walk. He suggested we meet there. Perfect timing.

The walk reminded me of a bittersweet experience walking along the Charles River when David was inpatient at Mass General (MGH). It was a lovely spring day and again I was relieving stress by taking charge with a long walk. As I walked along the Charles, I looked across at a playground area that had adult exercise stations. A young man, shirtless in the cool spring weather, was working out. I was both happy for his health and sad for David’s physical deterioration. I savored the hug my Army guy gave me when I saw him at Christmas time before he got sick. We were at a Christmas concert of R’els in Manchester, Connecticut, and he surprised us: walking into the church when we weren’t expecting him. He had his fatigues and Army boots on and his crewcut was a prominent feature of his bare head. Those strong arms and chest and back. I didn't realize how soon they would be gone.