I spent the morning in Brookline today, free-sampling another life.
Friends of mine are relocating there while the husband is a medical intern at MGH/Brigham&Women’s. Today was the arrival of their moving truck, so I packed Felix up, and we went in to help them keep an eye on their five month old son.
Oh, the smell of a baby’s head! How I’ve missed it!
I have a love-hate relationship with Brookline. It’s lovely, has tons of parks and playgrounds, T access, gorgeous old homes, lots of little neighborhoods with shopping and dining. It’s also very expensive, some people there can be snobbish. A fair amount of the “hate” is really envy. It’s not likely I’ll ever live there, thus the grass is always going to look greener.
So, while my friends were directing their movers and starting the long and arduous process of unpacking, Felix and I bundled their gorgeous little guy into his stroller and took him on a long walk around the neighborhood. We scoped out the park and the playground, we chatted with a neighbor walking his dogs, we strolled up to Beacon Street, watched the T, got some nosh at Starbucks, explored a little more.
I could live like that. I could. I could be a stay-at-home-Mom in Brookline. In another life. I daydreamed it, while we walked, envisioning a life without constant renovations, without loud, obnoxious neighbors, a life with daily walks to the pictuesque playground, and a barista who knows my name and my silly coffee drink preferences. Then, the baby started to cry, and I was back in nanny mode, settling him down, and the fantasy faded.
Back in the VW, most of the way home again, I found myself straining homeward, impatient with the traffic and the red lights.
The truth? I love our house, flaws and all. It’s home. I need to work, in order for us to live the way we want to. I’m lucky. I can do my job and be a full-time Mom. The grass might look greener in Brookline, but the grass is mine at home.