boston, and a visit to mary oliver

Okay, well, it wasn't exactly a visit to Mary Oliver, but it was quite close enough.

A poetry reading and book signing at Wellesley College inspired a full-day trip to Boston today. I had it all planned out--snacks for the car, a fully-charged iPod, directions to parking, a fabulous blogger to meet. Then it just turned into one of those days where things just don't jive, where one bad turn of luck leads to another and another and you begin to think you should just give up while you're not too far behind. I got confused about how much time I had in Boston and didn't get to have a blogger meet-up, got lost in the car (at one point my GPS took me straight through a parking garage like it was just another road to drive along), got lost on foot, didn't load the audio walking tour of the Boston Public Garden onto my iPod properly, waited too long for a slow waitress and had to leave the restaurant with just a take-out sandwich instead, then had to eat it with stale bread, got lost in the car again, couldn't find Wellesley campus chapel, parked in the wrong place and had to walk an extra 20 minutes when I was already late, got stuck in a bad seat way in back, and then, at the very end of my night, found myself holding back tears as I tried to tell a campus cop that I thought my car was missing from the parking garage.

Yeah, I know. I almost turned around thirty minutes in.

But I'm glad I didn't. If only for the poetry reading, the trip was the best idea I've had all week. All month, even. But really--I didn't get that lost, the weather wasn't as cold as I expected (even though I wore tights under my jeans and brought an extra coat in case), found a $12 dress in a thrift store on Charles Street, made it to the poetry reading just in time to purchase a book, spied an empty single seat right up front at the very last second, and ended up finding my car in the parking garage after all (I think the day was just too much--it was just one level lower than I thought it was and I made it out before I had to explain anything to the campus cop who was already looking at me like I was the craziest girl he'd ever seen).

The drive through Massachusetts was absolutely gorgeous, too. I think I'm going to cry when all this fall foliage is done with and the trees are bare and lonely again.

Abbie was sweet enough to email me recommendations of sights to see during my few hours in Boston. Claiming that the Boston Public Garden was a must-see was such a favor. Wandering amidst ponds and geese and willow trees was the perfect way to spend an afternoon.

Seeing Wellesley was fun, too. Not only is it such a quintessential New England town, the campus in autumn made my heart hurt. This "pumpkin patch" on the front lawn of a local church (there were literally hundreds of pumpkins!) totally sold me.

And then there was Mary. Oh my, my, MY. Call me a dork, but the place was filled with plenty of other dorks too, so I don't feel so bad. Even though I was only introduced to her poetry a few months ago on the recommendation of a friend, I've fallen for her. Seeing her tonight was like seeing a celebrity. Only way better.

She has cropped gray hair and wore a black turtleneck and walked slowly and spoke so carefully. If she had allowed photos, I'd have taken a hundred, but she asked us not to and, well, I'll do just about anything Mary Oliver asks me to so I sadly don't have any proof. She said things like, "We are all poets in the great river of poetry," and "Beauty gives you an ache to be worthy," and called herself "a beast given the gift of imagination." She read countless poems and slipped in witty remarks in between, reading a few that haven't even been published or read before. Listening to a poet read their poems in the way they intended them to be heard seems like the greatest way to explore poetry, I've decided. She read one of my very favorite poems, Wild Geese, second only to my great favorite (which she sadly didn't recite). When she read that one, I think I even cried a little. When she finished, and everyone stood and began applauding, clapping my hands together for her didn't seem nearly enough. Right before I left, standing two feet in front of her as she carefully drew her name in my book, I was speechless.

Funny, what a few well-chosen-and-strung-together words can do for a soul.

Until next time, Mary.