Where the Heart Resides

I am sitting at South Station in Boston, waiting for the commuter rail. I’ve never blogged in public before. It feels kinda naughty. I’m still groggy (It’s 6:55am) and recovering from a mad Easter dinner.

The Bear and I have been together for two years. During our second week of dating, I was invited to join him and his family for Easter. Being  Jewish, the ritual of Easter was somewhat foreign to me. I remember calling all of my Christian girlfriends and asking them to email me a copy of “Grace’ so I could be prepared if a prayer was said. They told me there were many forms of Grace, which left me bewildered.Then I asked if I truly needed a bonnet (as I had seen so often growing up in the South, and then in the area of Brooklyn where I lived after college). No bonnet. Ahhhh, okay. Well, what kind of food should I expect? My girlfriend mentioned something about a meat jello thing, I think it was a mint aspic. Another one said something about yams and mini marshamallows.I remember really wanting to impress the Bear and not be out of sorts when meeting his family. It sounded like I just had to smile and go for it.

That first Easter was truly lovely. His family was very welcoming. I realized that Italians were very much like Jews in their focus on family and ritual. We had Chinese food for Easter lunch, which completely put me at ease.

Yesterday marked my third Easter with my Italian side of the family. It’s so interesting to be welcomed into your partners’ life so fully. His sister is like my second sister. His Auntie spares no inappropriate comment because I am the newcomer. (She swooned at my protruding belly and said I was so big, I looked like I was having twins. TWINS!!!!!!) The kids run around and put flowers in my hair and draw funny pictures of us.

We realize with tender anticipation (and hope) that there will be another one to spoil with chocolate eggs next year.


A string duet has just begun to play in the lobby of the train station. They are in formal attire, and the sounds of Rogers and Hammerstein are amplified by the acoustics of the grand atrium. I love this city. Boston truly is my home. If I look down from the sky, I would see a little light on, atop a historic hill. That’s where my heart resides. So happy.

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