Tagged: Home

Boston, You’re My Home

Etsy-Boston-Heart-PrintWhen people ask me where I’m from, I proudly let them know my home is Boston. Sure, I live, work, and love in New York, but Boston? That’s my home. Born and raised.

As a Boston Baby, there were several things I looked forward to every year: (1) summer in the city, (2) Red Sox opening day and (3) Marathon Monday. Falling on Patriots’ Day, the Boston Marathon is the oldest annual marathon in the country, as well as one of the largest. It’s a huge draw for tourists, and for runners across the globe aspiring to set a new goal. For Bostonians, Marathon Monday is the most beautiful day. It’s more than just a day off from work or school, and more than just a marathon. Hundreds of thousands set aside any differences to come together, cheer on family and friends, and to celebrate life.

This year, on Monday, April 15, 2013, 2 bombs struck the finish line of the Boston Marathon. Reports say 3 are dead (including an 8 year old boy) and over 110 are injured (ranging from age 2 and up). 4 hours into the race, bombs went off along Boylston Street in places I called home. One across from an old neighborhood haunt called the Lenox Hotel where my girlfriends and I used to spend all of our hours enjoying martinis and gabbing through the night. Another across from the Boston Public Library, a place where I used to escape to during lunch breaks from my Prudential Center job. More importantly, these 2 bombs went off in the middle of crowds rooting for the home team.

There are many who will never be able to walk again, run again, or smile the same way again. And for that I am heartbroken. Dismayed. Speechless. Disgusted. There’s no one yet to blame and there is only fear to embrace. The 26th mile was to be dedicated to the kids who died in the Newtown tragedies, and within the 26th mile, a death toll rose.

I am blessed. My family is okay. My mother did not go to her downtown Boston job today and my father’s commute doesn’t involve the city at all. My aunt is well, my grandmother and uncle are too. My cousin is safely tucked away in college.

I am also hopeful. I’ve heard reports that marathon runners who crossed the finish line kept running to hospitals to donate their blood. I watched the YouTube videos that showed instead of running away, many ran into the smoke to help. I’ve read blog posts of spectators giving runners their coats, money to get home, and cell phones to call home with no request of the items to be returned. There are Facebook groups and Google Docs filled with people offering the warmth of their home and the comfort of a roof for those without.

So, behind the cloak of this senseless tragedy, there is a glimmer of light. Bostonians: we’re strong, we’re scrappy, and we’re the underdogs. We’ll be okay.

Darkness to Light(photo credits: 1, 2)

 

Did you know I’m an adult? Because I sure didn’t.

It’s come to my attention that I am allegedly an adult.

I say allegedly because I’m still not convinced this is true. However,  all signs point to yes as the evidence continues to creep up on me. First, there’s the job I go to 5 days a week and worry about on the weekends (in fact, I just got off the phone with a client. It’s 9:30pm). Second, there’s the apartment I live in, not with parents but a roommate. Third, there is actual rent to pay, and utility bills (I mean, what?). Fourth, I cook my own meals! Sometimes, I even cook for boys (but I also consider that just “playing house” so perhaps that points back towards being a kid again – phew!).

But what has really drove this alleged adulthood home is the daily phone conversations I have with my mother. Those talks are no longer about me or about my day. About the mundane facts that fill a twenty-something’s head that she feels the need to tell her another. No longer about what I had for lunch or the cost of the boots I bought on sale but shouldn’t have bought at all. No longer about how long my day felt or the crazy person on the subway.

Our conversations have become equal parts her day and mine. Or sometimes, just her day. Her hardships. Her ups and her downs. They have turned into conversations where she takes as much as she gives. And I’m embarrassed to say that once I inquired why, and she said simply “because sometimes it’s helpful to talk through things like you do.”

What a thought… That parents need to talk things through like I do.

And that’s when I realized that I am allegedly an adult: when my mother confided in me. When my mother asked for my advice, when she was honest and open about issues that matter.

Me. An adult (allegedly). Who knew!

Wishing You A Very Merry

It’s Christmas Eve as I sit and write this piece. My mother is sitting across from me at her computer in our kitchen (we are the only family I know that has a 1:1 computer to person ratio) and we’re watching the first airing of A Christmas Story on TBS.

I’m blessed this evening. Superficially because I sit with a roof over my head. And though I complain the house is cold, I’m lucky to be covered. We’ve just finished our Christmas Eve tradition of opening one present each. Mine? A beautiful Tiffany blue box filled with a gorgeous crystal box and a stunning necklace. My mother is cooking chiterlings (pronounced chit-lins) on the stovetop and seasoning the turkey for tomorrow while she says little things like “you’ve got to learn this, Maiah.” I usually just nod silently. This year, I’m taking note and asking questions because one year I’ll be in my mother’s shoes (too bad we don’t share the same size).

I’m blessed this evening for other reasons as well. I received a gorgeous holiday e-card from the Ace Hotel. Probably my favorite one of the year. You see, I’ve always loved the Ace but have yet to do an event or stay there. Despite this fact, their generosity and thoughtfulness shines through.

In honor of me, and the other hundred thousand contacts the Ace must have, they have made a donation in my name to the American Cancer Society’s Hope Lodge. What an honor… what a gift. I am blessed because a gift was made on my behalf. And while I am blessed to have a roof over my head and to be in good health, others are not. So, I am blessed to have, and I am blessed to give.

Along these lines, my brilliant (and very pink) company did something similar.

How lucky are we to be able to give (with the help of our friends at Warby Parker) in this way? Very.

So, I am wishing you a very merry. I hope you’ve had the chance to spend it with the ones you love. And if not (or even if so), I hope you’ve been connected to brightening the season for others as well.

Xoxo, Maiah

Happy Thanksgiving, With Love

Another year, another day to give thanks.

This year, I’m thankful for my family – who hasn’t stopped talking to me since I walked in the door at 12:45am on Wednesday morning thanks to Tuesday night Thanksgiving traffic.

This year, I’m thankful for my friends – each of whom have sent the most ridiculous set of wishes for this year’s Secret Santa. No, I can’t buy you a house in DR with our $50 budget (don’t get it twisted through, I wished for diamonds and a brand new car. Good luck, Santa!).

This year, I am thankful for my job – it has taken me on a journey that I would never have imagined and with a few changes coming up for the New Year, I have a feeling this chapter is about to take me on the ride of my life.

This year, I am thankful for a roof over my head – there is nothing sweeter than my NYC apartment (and my super sweet roommate and her super sweet baking skills). But knowing that I have a roof waiting for me in NYC, as well as several in different states (and one international city), I am pretty blessed.

This year, and every day, I am thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

Suburban Girl Laments: Escaping the City

It must be clear now that I am not a native New Yorker. Prior to moving here, I had absolutely no desire to even entertain the idea of setting down roots. In fact, I believe the words I used to use were along the lines of “I could NEVER.EVER live in a city like New York”. Well, now here I am, working my way into my 3rd year in the city.

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Do I love it?
No.

Do I hate it?
Not always.

What I just can’t understand is the constant need to get out of the city. And not just my need, but everyone’s. Why do we flock to cities we need to take a break from? Why do we relish weekends like the 4th of July, when everyone escapes and the city is quiet? I guess I thought the point of living in NY revolved around the hustle and bustle of the city.

Anyway, point is – I have yet to embrace this city. There are things I know I’ll never find anywhere else – the opportunities afforded to me in this city are beyond words. Being a part of the fashion, the decadence, the luxury – it’s been incredible. But for now – I just can’t wait to begin my week of vacation.

I’ll be enjoying things like nature and writing with a freshly brewed cup of coffee made by mom while the rest of you are working away tirelessly in NYC. Enjoy – I know I will!

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