Scenes in the Boston Public Garden

Everyone is in pairs today. Father and son walk awkwardly distant, only grunting comments and response at each other. Two fabulous fashionista friends walk arm in arm, Starbucks cups in hand, whispering secrets of their lovers with a casual ebb and flow. A woman and her puppy romp through the snow chasing squirrels with such vigor that you barely notice that somewhere under there is a summer pond. Everyone seems to have lightness in their steps and an appreciation for a beautiful calm after yesterday’s winter storm.

Walking the city, carefully keeping an eye out for the glittering surface of ice set against the dirty concrete, is a lesson in treading lightly. But once you tire of examining the pace of your steps, you look up and it seems as if you had fallen into a postcard. The snow is supple, and powdery-light in the Public Garden. The mid-afternoon sun peaks its sleepy head from behind the Gothic spires of an empty church. Those who have chosen to walk the scenic route through the middle of this winter wonderland do so with ambitious steps toward their destination.

Half-hearted attempts at snowmen appear every once in a while with misshapen heads and amputated limbs.. Lopsided they may be, but they are optimistic as well, a perfect reflection on the human character. A loud “Hey!” being shouted in distress beckons snaps you back into focus, and a siren wails in another direction. The chaotic blunders of city life, once again, alerts you to the paradox that is Boston. The city is grimy, but pure. Luscious, but scrappy. Privileged, but homeless. The juxtaposition of wealth and poverty displayed in one cross section is absolutely fascinating.