Boston, Here We Come

Sojourning in West Babylon, N.Y., at my parents' house. Brief morning meditation and morning prayer sitting in the rocking chair facing the east window of the guest room. Eight o'clock Mass at Our Lady of Grace among just over thirty parishioners in the Marian chapel behind the sanctuary's main altar. Following Eucharist, walked to a stationery shop to buy The New York Times, and read the front page stories over breakfast at a Dunkin' Donuts down the street. Under heavy gray and perspiring skies, walked to the West Babylon Public Library. Spent an hour reading; pulled out Robert Caro and The Years of Lyndon Johnson from the shelves again. Walked home and arrived to the laborers' general dentistry already in progress. Now computing and reading correspondence above the knocking, thudding, and drilling while waiting for Mom to return from work at John F. Kennedy Elementary School. Probably won't get a chance to take a walk with her around the block; we need to get to the train station for the 1:10 p.m. local train to Penn Station. Going to the Port Authority Bus Terminal for the four o'clock Greyhound express to Boston South Station. Evening meditation and prayer will be on the coach. Dinner will be early in one of the Port Authority food courts.

Mom asked me to say a prayer for her this morning. I asked her to say one for me and all our neighbors, known and unknown, recognized and unrecognized. Had a strong intuition, just before Mass and immediately after while walking, that this was not just Mom's sentimental desire, but this request for prayer was truly from the Spirit. Mom, you will know, and you can depend on, my prayers.

Expect to arrive at South Station around eight-thirty tonight, and San Lorenzo Friary in Jamaica Plain around nine-thirty or so. Boston, here we come.