I've been here in Boston for four days now. This is a curious city. So much antiquity intermingled with technology. On one corner a building made entirely of glass and the next, a building made of stone hand carved by some forefather years and years ago. I walked past a brick wall and it made me smile. The wall was relatively new in construction, but mixed into the new red bricks were misshaped dark red, almost blackened, bricks from a time long ago. If you looked at them long enough, one could imagine the fires, wind, rain and snow they have survived over the years. I am so happy that these treasures are not so easily discarded. The people here hold onto the past yet still look to the future. I sat on a pavestone half wall staring into the sun sparkling Charles river. So much life and vibrancy ripples across those waters. The echoes of the past are strong on every asphalt street, in every ice encrusted window and in the very air itself. This city puts me in awe at how small I am in the book of history. A new word, on a fresh page of this life. Wonderment of challenges fill my middle aged bones and I feel fresh and alive, eager to meet new challenges, all the while smiling and laughing at the thrill of it all. I even pried a few return smiles from the students trickling through MIT, intent on expending their minds. Not many people smile in this city. It is a shame. I wish they could stop and just listen and hear the memories here. It touches me in those deep down places where lifetimes fold in upon themselves. It makes me wonder what am I in the scheme of things. At this moment, it doesn't really matter. I can see my breath on the air and feel the coldness against my flesh. For now, that is all that matters to me.