Jamaica Plain, I love you.
Dear Jamaica Plain,
Leaving you feels like the bittersweet moment of college graduation. There's the excitement to move onto the next thing, but also the sadness of leaving a place that has become so dear. The beginning of my time in Boston was a rough one, but you were always there for me. Your people were kind and friendly. Your green space, plentiful. Your bars were homey and, most definitely, one of a kind.
You gave me the city, but you also gave me the suburbs - all in one. You provided me with some of the dearest running friends. You gave me a quiet place to pray, that was unlocked throughout the day. You gave me the Turkey & Brie sandwich. The Eliot School House where I played soccer with the ladies of 7P for my first birthday that I celebrated in Boston. My little spot at the Pond where I would read for hours during the summers.
I remember the day I fell in love with you. I had already accepted the position at the Archdiocese of Boston, and was up for a 36 hour period to do some apartment hunting. I looked at places in Somerville, Cambridge, and Quincy. I didn't even really have an appointment to see my apartment here - just an address. My potential roommate didn't move down from Maine for another few weeks, and the landlord was in South Africa. I was almost certain I wouldn't move here. Why would I move into an apartment I couldn't even see? I walked up to the house on Orchard St., and it wasn't much to look at. Fading paint, yard in need of landscaping. I creepily walked around the house, quietly praying no one called the cops. The side yard was overgrown, the fence broken. I thought, "Oh well, I looked at it." I continued walking down the street, and then there it was...Jamaica Pond, in all its glory. The water sparkling in the daylight. A steady stream of runners rounding the corner. Parents rolling children in strollers. Friends laughing gaily. I sat down on a bench in awe, amazed that my heart could change so quickly. "I'm living here," I thought to myself, and quickly texted Megan saying I wanted the room in the apartment, sending her a picture of the pond as my reasoning. As if the Pond weren't enough, I strolled into what I fondly refer to as "downtown JP," and found the most important establishments: a sushi restaurant, an ice cream shop, and a Dunkin Donuts (I am my father's daughter), all within a block of each other, all within walking distance of the apartment. During my stroll, several people actually made eye contact, smiled, and one even spoke to me. It was the un-Boston experience. It felt like home, and it felt like Jamaica Plain wanted me to feel at home. That was the day I fell in love.
My friends, especially those that live in Brighton and other neighborhoods of Boston, can attest that my love was not a simple infatuation, but truly enduring. Through the record breaking winter of 2015 I grew sullen and distressed over Boston winters. My arms were perpetually sore from shoveling, and I needed to guard my well manicured parking spot with my life day in and day out. I felt cut off from the world; traveling between neighborhoods seemed near impossible. However, it was during this "dark" time, I discovered a small community within Jamaica Plain - the young adults of St. Thomas Aquinas. We were the ones willing to brave the snow and make it to Sunday Mass. One morning, it was quite literally us and Fr. Carlos in the small chapel. All of us bundled underneath layer upon layer, either willing to make the trek simply to get out of our apartments or youthful enough that it wasn't a risk. It all started when Lara and Gabe invited us all over for dinner, a cozy evening with new friends. Stories were exchanged. Laughs were shared. And at the end of the evening, I made my way home through the tall piles of snow. Lara required that I text her when I safely made it back. Like the dutiful person I am, I texted upon arrival, and quickly went to sleep. However, I learned a few days later, that Lara never received my text message, and she and Gabe went out into the night, searching for me, to make sure I was all right. Though at times that winter, I felt like my heart was replaced with an ice box, these friends were the light within the darkness. They truly made Jamaica Plain more my home. It was that winter that my love for Jamaica Plain endured.
I would be remiss, if in my ode to you, Jamaica Plain, I didn't sing the praises of Forest Hills Runners (Community running for all!) Albeit, it took me a year to show up for my first run, after much pestering and encouragement from Thom and Alicia, as well as a very pithy remark from Alicia's friend Ivy, during a run at Alicia's bachelorette party weekend - "What's the worst that could happen if you join? You meet cool people and you get faster?" Ivy was right; I met cool people and I got faster (and last Fall ran sub 8:00s in a Half Marathon, when only a couple years before couldn't run anything faster than 10:00 minute miles). Showing up to my first run, after walking the 1.2 miles from my house to Stony Brook, I was nervous and quiet. Everyone seemed to have spiffy running gear, and there I was wearing a free t-shirt I had gotten from some event with my only pair of running shorts. In short, I was definitely a hobby jogger. I remember very distinctly, meeting Meg and Danielle, who were also new to the club, but they were friendly, hospitable, welcoming, and down right great! I don't remember the route we took, and I don't remember how out of breath I may have been (which I am certain I was), but I do remember Pete and Rachael daftly guiding us through Jamaica Plain, showing me places I hadn't been yet. And, I started to fall more in love... As I came back week after week, I discovered trails of the Arboretum, Parker Hill, trails around the Pond, the path to Landmark Center, and random streets with beautiful houses. But, I truly discovered the heart and soul of Jamaica Plain - its people. These people who genuinely wanted to be your friend, even if you were the weird Catholic girl. These people who wanted to know your thoughts on the various ballot questions. Not just to debate you, but because they wanted to more deeply understand the questions themselves, and form an opinion. These people who were happy to chat while running, or simply run in silence. These people who listened so closely as I processed through roommate and housing stuff, job opportunities and changes, and just whatever odd question was on my mind. These people are the reason my love for Jamaica Plain has continued on for years....
I could go on and on, and on and on. I could write volumes about my experiences in Jamaica Plain that truly make it one of a kind, but at the end of the day, I think words can only capture so much of my experience here. It has been five years of great memories, wonderful food, and delightful people. I am sad to leave it, even if I am only moving a couple miles away.
Jamaica Plain, I don't know what else to say other than...I love you, and I will miss you.
Sincerely yours,
Ann
Leaving you feels like the bittersweet moment of college graduation. There's the excitement to move onto the next thing, but also the sadness of leaving a place that has become so dear. The beginning of my time in Boston was a rough one, but you were always there for me. Your people were kind and friendly. Your green space, plentiful. Your bars were homey and, most definitely, one of a kind.
You gave me the city, but you also gave me the suburbs - all in one. You provided me with some of the dearest running friends. You gave me a quiet place to pray, that was unlocked throughout the day. You gave me the Turkey & Brie sandwich. The Eliot School House where I played soccer with the ladies of 7P for my first birthday that I celebrated in Boston. My little spot at the Pond where I would read for hours during the summers.
I remember the day I fell in love with you. I had already accepted the position at the Archdiocese of Boston, and was up for a 36 hour period to do some apartment hunting. I looked at places in Somerville, Cambridge, and Quincy. I didn't even really have an appointment to see my apartment here - just an address. My potential roommate didn't move down from Maine for another few weeks, and the landlord was in South Africa. I was almost certain I wouldn't move here. Why would I move into an apartment I couldn't even see? I walked up to the house on Orchard St., and it wasn't much to look at. Fading paint, yard in need of landscaping. I creepily walked around the house, quietly praying no one called the cops. The side yard was overgrown, the fence broken. I thought, "Oh well, I looked at it." I continued walking down the street, and then there it was...Jamaica Pond, in all its glory. The water sparkling in the daylight. A steady stream of runners rounding the corner. Parents rolling children in strollers. Friends laughing gaily. I sat down on a bench in awe, amazed that my heart could change so quickly. "I'm living here," I thought to myself, and quickly texted Megan saying I wanted the room in the apartment, sending her a picture of the pond as my reasoning. As if the Pond weren't enough, I strolled into what I fondly refer to as "downtown JP," and found the most important establishments: a sushi restaurant, an ice cream shop, and a Dunkin Donuts (I am my father's daughter), all within a block of each other, all within walking distance of the apartment. During my stroll, several people actually made eye contact, smiled, and one even spoke to me. It was the un-Boston experience. It felt like home, and it felt like Jamaica Plain wanted me to feel at home. That was the day I fell in love.
My friends, especially those that live in Brighton and other neighborhoods of Boston, can attest that my love was not a simple infatuation, but truly enduring. Through the record breaking winter of 2015 I grew sullen and distressed over Boston winters. My arms were perpetually sore from shoveling, and I needed to guard my well manicured parking spot with my life day in and day out. I felt cut off from the world; traveling between neighborhoods seemed near impossible. However, it was during this "dark" time, I discovered a small community within Jamaica Plain - the young adults of St. Thomas Aquinas. We were the ones willing to brave the snow and make it to Sunday Mass. One morning, it was quite literally us and Fr. Carlos in the small chapel. All of us bundled underneath layer upon layer, either willing to make the trek simply to get out of our apartments or youthful enough that it wasn't a risk. It all started when Lara and Gabe invited us all over for dinner, a cozy evening with new friends. Stories were exchanged. Laughs were shared. And at the end of the evening, I made my way home through the tall piles of snow. Lara required that I text her when I safely made it back. Like the dutiful person I am, I texted upon arrival, and quickly went to sleep. However, I learned a few days later, that Lara never received my text message, and she and Gabe went out into the night, searching for me, to make sure I was all right. Though at times that winter, I felt like my heart was replaced with an ice box, these friends were the light within the darkness. They truly made Jamaica Plain more my home. It was that winter that my love for Jamaica Plain endured.
I would be remiss, if in my ode to you, Jamaica Plain, I didn't sing the praises of Forest Hills Runners (Community running for all!) Albeit, it took me a year to show up for my first run, after much pestering and encouragement from Thom and Alicia, as well as a very pithy remark from Alicia's friend Ivy, during a run at Alicia's bachelorette party weekend - "What's the worst that could happen if you join? You meet cool people and you get faster?" Ivy was right; I met cool people and I got faster (and last Fall ran sub 8:00s in a Half Marathon, when only a couple years before couldn't run anything faster than 10:00 minute miles). Showing up to my first run, after walking the 1.2 miles from my house to Stony Brook, I was nervous and quiet. Everyone seemed to have spiffy running gear, and there I was wearing a free t-shirt I had gotten from some event with my only pair of running shorts. In short, I was definitely a hobby jogger. I remember very distinctly, meeting Meg and Danielle, who were also new to the club, but they were friendly, hospitable, welcoming, and down right great! I don't remember the route we took, and I don't remember how out of breath I may have been (which I am certain I was), but I do remember Pete and Rachael daftly guiding us through Jamaica Plain, showing me places I hadn't been yet. And, I started to fall more in love... As I came back week after week, I discovered trails of the Arboretum, Parker Hill, trails around the Pond, the path to Landmark Center, and random streets with beautiful houses. But, I truly discovered the heart and soul of Jamaica Plain - its people. These people who genuinely wanted to be your friend, even if you were the weird Catholic girl. These people who wanted to know your thoughts on the various ballot questions. Not just to debate you, but because they wanted to more deeply understand the questions themselves, and form an opinion. These people who were happy to chat while running, or simply run in silence. These people who listened so closely as I processed through roommate and housing stuff, job opportunities and changes, and just whatever odd question was on my mind. These people are the reason my love for Jamaica Plain has continued on for years....
I could go on and on, and on and on. I could write volumes about my experiences in Jamaica Plain that truly make it one of a kind, but at the end of the day, I think words can only capture so much of my experience here. It has been five years of great memories, wonderful food, and delightful people. I am sad to leave it, even if I am only moving a couple miles away.
Jamaica Plain, I don't know what else to say other than...I love you, and I will miss you.
Sincerely yours,
Ann
Comments
Post a Comment