Pardis Haghighi browses books at the Little Free Library in the Irish Famine Memorial Plaza in Boston. PHOTO BY LILLIAN LAKE

In May of this year, we celebrated several birthdays in Boston, where my son lives, as he and Pardis both had birthdays then. It was also Mother’s Day and my birthday, so we had a big weekend in the city. With a little help from me, Pardis had planned a surprise birthday party for Greg. He never suspected a thing. We had spent the whole day walking around Boston, quickly snapping photos at the Irish Famine Memorial Plaza and the Little Free Library. in front of Walgreens. Finally, we walked to Chinatown to have a festive birthday celebration, complete with sparkly birthday candles.

The weekend was an opportunity to walk and shop journey around Belmont. I felt like I was walking in my mother’s footsteps. I spent many trips to the area with my mom when I was little. I immediately recognized a funeral home where we attended an Irish wake. An Irish wake is a celebratory party honoring the deceased and a time for sharing stories and grief. There is lots of food and drink, particularly, in this case, alcohol.

Another part of the weekend took us along the Charles River. My son took us by my mother’s former high school, which is now the middle school. It sits up high on a hill and still looks as majestic as I remembered in my younger years. We drove into Watertown to see my mother’s childhood home. It seems a little lost, and yet the same. Harvard has expanded into Watertown as a bedroom community, yet this little courtyard where I picked pears and apples at neighbor’s 1940s homes remains untouched. It felt as though I could walk into any of them to say hello to old friends and catch up on the years that have passed.

My mother’s home faced the Charles River. From my bedroom window, I’d watch the Harvard sculling crew swiftly descend the river in the early morning. At night, I’d kneel at the window and watch the wide river as streetlights lighted it. The long, cascading, crisp, lacy white curtains surrounding me made me feel protected and like a princess. At night, when I was supposed to be in bed and heard my mother coming up the stairs, I’d hurriedly slip back under the covers. Those days were carefree, full of laughter, fun, and mother-daughter bonding. My heart feels full with the sweet memory.

These side trips of life in review are essential for all of us and don’t have to be made in person. We can look into our hearts wherever we are and reflect on what has been, never been, or we wish we had been. All memories aren’t happy. I get emotional one hundred percent when I take these voyages. So many times throughout my life, I have been told not to express my feelings, especially if it included tears. Those people were wrong. Emotions are a precious gift and are meant to be expressed. Our emotional journey is an essential piece of a courageous life.