Susan Senator

The drive back from the airport in a cab, the moment I reach the Esplanade and I can see the two signs over Storrow Drive: “Kenmore; Fenway.” I know I am home and I’ve done good. Tired, eager, proud, grown-up.

The first moments in the hotel, alone, taking off my shoes, getting ready to give my talk. Feel like Mary Tyler Moore. Completely competent, strong, accomplished, free.

Misty but clear warm evening, Fenway is packed, my seat is not bad, my friend by my side with so many things to catch me up on. They are winning, so far ahead, it is ours. Cold soda, salty pink hot dog. Laughing my head off, thirsty, quenched, alive.

Sucking in hot salty air as I pedal up the hill on Ocean Drive in Eastham, approaching the “second ocean,” Coast Guard Beach. To the left are low dunes covered in beach shrubs and Cape roses (rugosas), and suddenly, there is the ocean: huge, monstrous, powerful, forever.

Sunny Saturday morning, no plans. The kids are completely absorbed in whatever they’re doing, no one cares about us. We feel the same, close the door tight. Excited, in love, unwrapped, beautiful.