I've been so lucky to enjoy this absolutely amazing season so far. My days off seem to fall into the "perfect days of summer category". I have so few complaints of the last month and a half, which is a pleasant alternative to my constant whining to the endlessly long winter. Until about May 1st, it truely seemed as though it was a dreary shade of gray since the day I arrived back to the east coast of the USA last August. Of course, this is not the case. I have distant yet happy memories of last August, wandering around joblessly and happy to the various city parks, stopping at lemonade stands and chatting with crazies.
Boston is summer. Somehow the vitamin D overload, after so many months of malnourishment, causes delirious Bostonians to lose control, sign leases, and declare their love for a city that loves them back a mere two months of the year. It is amazing to witness and frightening for the wandering souls. Boston is a unique home. We have culture and poverty. We have class, education and the best-worst accent in the country. We have a woman who says "I've been drunk since thursday so don't mess with me!" and Harvard freshmen who can't stop talking about their golden shoes. We have world class food and wit, sarcasm and intolerance for the intolerant. Boston is a city. A home, to so many. It will lure you back, home, again and again. And with these too short summer days we are falling in love again. With a city that for so many months acts like an angry teen, hiding her beauty away for no good reason other than selfish pride.
I spent an amazingly lucky New England day reading under green rustling leaves, driving to Newburyport and watching the sun set along the Atlantic, and hoping that this time I won't forget the moment when it fell beneath the clouds.
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