Beacon Hill brokers memories of a bygone era

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Beacon Hill brokers memories of a bygone era

It was 10pm, on a brisk Saturday night in Beacon Hill. I just said my goodbyes’, as I left one of the local pubs on the HIll.

As I was walking down Charles Street, towards the redline T (train stop), a flash memory came to my mind of my first Beacon Hill apartment that I rented back many years ago.

As I was walking in a memory daze thinking of my first Beacon Hill apartment, I was jounced from my thoughts, when I heard a woman’s voice say, “Hello John.” It was an old girlfriend that I was going out with when I first moved to Boston. 

We smiled at each other and hugged briefly, we both gave each other updates on our respective lives. There was an awkward good-byes and we both said, “hope to see you again,” and then walked away into the night. There was no one last wave; no running back towards each other for one last embrace, like in the movies. Instead we just kept walking in opposite directions, each step taking us further away from each others distant past.

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