Today, the unthinkable happened. A dream was realized, 17 years in the making.
I had determined early on this was going to be the year for Cape Cod. Unlike for so many of my fellow Bostonians, this was a huge thing: it would be my first visit.
I had waited too many years for the right moment, the right price, the right weather, the right traffic conditions, the right everything.
Not this time.
Plan A was to take the CapeFLYER train out of South Station, but an 8 AM ride was impossible to reach on a Saturday of a long weekend.
Plan B was to drive the whole way down: it meant stepping out of my comfort zone and facing everything that comes. On the spur of the moment, with nothing more than the clothes on our backs and a few necessities, my 9-year-old companion and I set out on an amazing adventure to see this part of Massachusetts I had heard so much about but never seen with my own eyes.
It was so liberating to drive and explore the South Shore area, to go at my own unhurried pace, to really appreciate the culture and flavor of each city and town, and to get lost a little bit. With every mile that I drove and with every hour that passed by, worries were taken elsewhere and I began to savor more of every moment, every sight, every whiff of the ocean in the distance.
Street parking at Nantasket Beach was plentiful and very cheap, and we were able to get a lovely glimpse of Boston and the Harbor Islands from Hull. The towns of Cohasset, Scituate, Marshfield, and Duxbury held plenty of extraordinarily beautiful homes, but the gated homes made it difficult to get a glimpse of the Atlantic while driving down Route 3A. Plymouth was the last big territory to conquer in my quest to reach the Cape before the day was through, and it was quite a drive.
Routes 3A and 3E merged and eventually became Route 6 at the famed Sagamore Bridge. Reaching that bridge, I sensed an intense feeling of accomplishment I had never felt before. Crossing the canal and ignoring my fear of heights, I watched with delight at the backed-up traffic on the other side of Route 6 (cars heading back into Boston) as I breezed further into the Cape by late afternoon.
Staying closer to the main roads, I got a glimpse of the tiny airport at Barnstable and sat through minor traffic jams in Hyannis in our search for a decent beach to walk on. Settling for Kalmus Beach, it was awesome to feel the warm sand of the Cape on our toes. Two hours after we set foot here, evening had begun to set in and our eyes were set on getting back to Boston at a reasonable hour. Driving through Mashpee and Falmouth on Route 28 to get to the Bourne Bridge was quite the distance, but it eventually led us back to where it all began 13 hours ago.
Is there ever a moment in your life when you find yourself denying what your heart really wants? Think for a moment how it would make you feel if you were to listen to your true inner voice and honor its every request. Every moment is a gift; savor it before it’s gone. I hope this blog piece inspires you to find and seek out your own journey, whatever it may be.
Video by Susan Ho
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