Took my dad to the DeCordova Museum in Lincoln, MA to see the glorious New England fall foliage. I had such perfect memories of the place from my first visit, when Another Man took me there, that I secretly wished to avoid what would be for me, a nostalgic trip. I was a little scared that the usual bickering between my dad, my brother and I would ruin what I remember as a Perfect Place, where I shared a quietly happy, blissful day with the Other Man.
My dad wasn't staying in Boston long enough to go anywhere further away, so there we went, my brother getting on my nerves all the way.

It was spectacular. It was windy, but the sky was a cloudless blue after a miserable weekend of fog and rain. I love it when the maple trees turn firey red on the edges when the leaves near the trunk are still green. I love not being able to hear civilisation, just for a short time. No construction workers, no machinery, no cars. Just the wind rustling the fallen leaves and the occassional bird cry.
The sculpture park was as lush and as beautiful as I remembered it. I walked towards the lake with my dad, down the trail shaded by golden trees. It reminded me of my time at CLC - our housemistress Mrs. L-G used to make us go on country side walks, to 'take in some fresh air', with our green wellies we'd be stuck into her Volvo. (and if you're not fast enough, you'd be stuck in the boot with Prima, her drippy white English Sheepdog which had really bad doggy breath) It made me happy that I could do this with my dad, who never had enough time for us when we were little.

After a pared down lunch at the museum cafe, I went to the room where His group put on an installation. 1.5 years onwards, the gallery room now has paintings by contemporary Boston artists, in place of miniscule video screens in bird cages.The closet behind the glass door is still there, though now locked. The image of Him, lanky and double bent, sitting on a disproportionally small milk crate, monitor inches in front, quietly debugging the program with muted frustration. (the program crashed often and would undisirably show Windows 98 screens on the installation....)

The trip brought back the memories, of Him and other things, but it also made new ones. The new ones are just as perfect in their own way. If I had a sound track for every place I go, DeCordova would be cheesily labelled as Perfect Day.