Prospects
- Sophie
- Nov 13, 2021
- 1 min read
Updated: Nov 15, 2021
We moved to Waltham in June of 2020 after spending the first three months of the pandemic in central NY. I wanted to be closer to Cambridge to do lab work over the summer (I was very grateful to be able to access our lab!), and Dev had just started a job at a pipe organ restoration company in Waltham.
I don't have pictures of the city of Waltham, or the suburban street where we lived for a year, and perhaps it is just as well; it might have been subconsciously intentional. The cramped, grey, belching city-ness of Waltham was unfamiliar to us, something always pressing in on one's thoughts uninvited. Instead, I have pictures from Prospect Hill Park, a sliver of greenness in the suburban concrete jungle surrounding Boston.
True to its name, Prospect Hill Park had several overlooks facing the city. Pumpy and I walked here nearly every day for a year, sometimes joined by Dev. I walked up this hill with Pumpy on oppressive summer evenings and dark winter afternoons when no one else was about except for a pair of Great Horned Owls, and I always found a measure of release and breathing room. Each time, we lingered at the overlook to gaze at the great city, amazed that we were here--next to such a metropolis. It turns out I have quite a complete time series of the view, in summer, fall, winter and spring. This view--and Dev--were my two constant points of reference as I sought to climb onwards through this year and reach the other side.
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