Last Saturday night, we drove into the city just so we could drive around.
We came down Interstate 93 from a few miles north, took Storrow Drive to the MIT Bridge, and then turned right onto Memorial Drive to savor the shimmering view from the other side of the Charles. Then it was back over the river, down Charles Street, turning right on Beacon and left on Arlington to swing around the Public Garden. There was plenty of parking so we grabbed a space and walked across the footbridge. It was beautiful, but strangely still for a weekend night, even a cold one in December. Eventually, we made our way to the Seaport, which was bright with lights but light on people, like a movie set waiting for the action to start.
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In 2021, I hope that action can start up safely all over the city, and sooner rather than later. I’m grateful for the comforts of my small world during the coronavirus pandemic, but it’s becoming claustrophobic. The pile of folders at home is now higher than the one I left behind at the office. I miss the frustrations of the Orange Line and the people-watching; getting extra exercise by getting off at the Haymarket station and walking to State Street; and my little office pod. I miss a jaunt for coffee and lunch that’s farther than the distance to my kitchen.
Which reminds me why Boston should miss me, too. After I engaged in some year-end number-crunching, the financial consequences of my work-from-home existence are sobering — for me and Boston. I’m still spending money — but online and locally, not in the city. From January to March 12, I spent at least $15 a day on Starbucks and fancy salads. That may not sound like much, but multiply it times the 240,000 or so people who used to commute daily into Boston and it adds up. There were also drinks with friends, and the occasional purchase at Macy’s or a Quincy Market store. Last New Year’s Eve, we splurged with tickets to the Pops and dinner at a Boston restaurant.
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Since the lockdown in March, my Boston spending essentially flatlined, although we did some outdoor restaurant dining in East Boston and the Seaport, among other places, and ordered take-out pizza from Regina’s in the North End. I also confess to picking up hair color on Newbury Street during the lockdown, and returning there more often than I would like for masked visits once salons got the go-ahead to reopen. For free entertainment, we walked the dog around Castle Island and saw the Wind on Water sculpture exhibit at the Charlestown Navy Yard. But in recent weeks, with coronavirus cases surging, we stayed close to home, while missing Boston and the humans in it.
This is a Boston commuter-and-visitor view, I know, weighted with emotion for familiar touchstones. The neighborhoods beyond downtown are filled with businesses that are hurting and people who are suffering from more than cabin fever. Homelessness and hunger are serious problems. Gun violence is up. Those realities can’t be ignored or airbrushed away by a Greater Boston community that joyfully celebrates the Marathon and the Fourth of July; we all have a stake in a city that is economically and socially healthy.
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But the thing about Boston has always been the sense of ownership felt by those who live beyond official city limits. Our relationship with the city is more than transactional. It comes from a deep love of Boston’s history and traditions. Now any nostalgia must be paired with an understanding that the city is changing as it should, and power is shifting as it must. That the change is happening during a pandemic makes it harder to see, feel, and touch, because we are all in our own bubbles. When the bubbles finally burst, and we are set free, it will be fascinating to see what’s different, what still needs to change, and what we can do to make it happen.
In 2021, missing Boston won’t be enough.
Joan Vennochi can be reached at joan.vennochi@globe.com. Follow her on Twitter @joan_vennochi.