Paula Gould Paula Gould

Boston You're My Home...


We flew in over Minot’s Ledge . I smiled, nodded my head as we passed over it and said “ I Love You Too.” What a great welcome it was to see the Harbor this way, in the glow of the eastern morning light. Quickly I rifled through my purse to find my camera as I knew this meant we’d soon be over Hull and it’s a rare occasion that I can take a snapshot of the peninsula from the air. As we passed Boston Light, the windmill was in view and over the great wingspan of the plane I snapped a misty morning shot of the tranquil islands, of the Harbor and my home. In an hour I’d be at the other vantage point; walking the seawall, perhaps, watching the planes descend to the west, disappearing just beneath the Boston skyline.

The weekend was a flash to me, a blink, the flicker of an old film or one of those flip books from cracker jacks (back when there were cool prizes), that some how lifted me up and twirled me back down in Los Angeles in one breath. Good to be home albeit for a short time.

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