It was my favorite spot.
For the thousandth time in four years, I stood on the crest of the hill that is the Tufts campus and looked out over Boston. I panned from east to west: from the Bunker Hill monument, past Government Center, to the Hancock and Prudential high-rises in the Back Bay.
I thought about memories happy and sad, days good and bad, people here and gone. And I tried to be somber and serious in my musings – hey Mom, hey Dad, I really did – but I don’t do somber and serious very well. And I’m fairly certain no normal person uses the word “musing.” Not as a gerund, anyway.
I checked my watch. T minus fifty-seven minutes. In less than an hour my college graduation exercises would begin. I wondered if people really toss their caps into the air after the ceremony is over. Wouldn’t it be a drag to locate your own cap? Sort of like the joke about all the dogs in the village having to leave their dog asses at the door on their way into an important dog meeting. I would tell you the punchline, but it’s a little too early in my story to be grossing you out. Maybe later. I’ll muse on that.
I thought about all the Super Bowl and World Series heroes of the past ten years as they answered the unseen questioner behind the hand-held camera who asked, “What are you going to do next?” And like them, I called out for any and all to hear.
“I’m going to Disney World!”
