The door's open

Another intense day in Boston.  Josh and I were driving up (to Boston) awaiting the press conference about the two suspects as we approached our destination at about 5:30 PM. Just as we arrived, the announcement was made. Two men. White hat. Black hat. Releasing images. When the press conference was done, I sort of felt like nothing of substance had happened.  Two men. White hat. Black hat. I wasn’t looking at photos, so I didn’t have the benefit of seeing the images, which might have made me understand that by releasing images, they were likely to unleash a chain of events that would be of great substance. 

The next 6 1/2 hours (that takes us to 11:59 PM of the day in which I would be writing about joy) were full and beautiful and complicated, and landed me at Claire's (my oldest friend) house in Boston, just as the city was about to launch into a 24-hour lock down, but I didn't know it yet. I think the pure moment of joy came when, after driving up from NYC, after having a full and beautiful and complicated evening and night, after I dropped Josh off at the T to get a midnight bus back to Boston, after I parked the car in Claire's driveway, as I was climbing the stairs to her front door, I heard her voice out her bedroom window. "Jane. The door's open." 

The dry humor. The deep familiarity. The door was open.