It’s 84 degrees and the air is sticky. But here I sit, in my yellow armchair, with an evening cup of coffee. It’s been storming on and off all day—the perfect excuse to stay in and do nothing. I should probably go to bed in a few hours, but it’s just as nice sitting here in my pajamas looking out the window. The rain turns the trees technicolor, and I can’t help but feel a sense of hope looking out at all the green leaves. 

Nights like this remind me of being a kid. The freedom of summer. Nowhere to be. Nothing to do. And in my case, passing the time with a cup of coffee staring out the window, usually in the company of my dear grandma. She’s not here anymore, but she’s surely the reason I can drink a cup of coffee at 7pm and be asleep by 9. After so many years, the caffeine doesn’t work. But the comfort sure does. Tastes like summer.

As soon as I graduated college and entered the so-called “real world,” I was sadly surprised when the magic of summer seemed to fade away. As an adult, you still have to pay your bills and go to work. Even when the weather’s begging you to savor the sun, obligations persist. And they usually prevent us from pursuing that childlike wonder that used to make summer so special. 

Devastating. I found the first few summers of my twenties to be an all around sad time. That first summer, fresh out of school with nothing but a blank slate to my name, I found myself spiraling as I failed to get a big girl job. Everyone said it would be easy. But no one prepares you for how scary endless potential can be. 

Ironically, I was finishing my degree online at the time. This was pre-Covid, so online school was a real choice. I had three more credits to go before I officially got my diploma. I decided to finish strong with a “History of Michigan” course at the local community college in my hometown. 

With nothing better to do—and growing sick of taking odd jobs to pay my rent—I decided to do what I had always done during sunny season. Hightail it back to my homeland to marinate in the wonder of a Michigan summer. One last Michigan summer. 

I spent the summer learning about my home state, swaying in my hammock, and slinging lattes because I’ve simply never been able to go without a job. I worked at a drive-thru coffee shop, and spent the shifts cracking jokes with my new pals over our headsets between orders. 

One night, my friend and I thought it would be funny to change the store music to mess with the customers. “What the hell is yacht rock!?” We had no idea, and the customers were very confused to be hearing Michael McDonald crooning in the Starbucks that evening. 

Now it’s a comfort genre of mine. I drive around with my windows down, dreaming of a life on the coast. I’ve always thought I’d be good at living on a boat. Christopher Cross seems to think so too. The canvas CAN do miracles. My last summer home was simply that. 

But as the weeks marched on, fall was creeping in. I still didn’t have any prospects. I did, however, have an apartment in New York City, and 4 roommates (perfect) who were probably wondering how I was going to pay for it. 

I’ll save the full story for another time, but I eventually ended up finding something. Well, it found me, and it happened to be my dream career at the time. All I ever wanted was to work in television. Despite having “no technical skills” (I actually said that in the interview) I was hired to be a graphic designer for a show on a really big network. Oh my god! 

On a list of things I never thought would happen, that was at the tippy top. Now I found myself in a complete reversal from the start of summer. I went from zero to full-time career in a matter of days. After an easy breezy summer of fun back home…I was terrified. I thought of how stressed adults always seemed to be, and got scared I’d never have my fun in the sun again.  

Maybe it was the yacht rock. Maybe it was my instincts. Maybe it was me knowing that when I go for something, I lock the fuck in and would probably never take a vacation once I started this new journey as a young professional. Whatever it was, I found myself in a rental car driving to the East Coast to finish off my summer strong. 

I had never been on a solo adventure before, let alone driven across that many states by myself. I felt free. I was so excited to see the ocean. It was just me, my summer playlist, my travel journal, and the open road. I had planned my road trip so I’d be staying one night in each New England state until I eventually wound up back in New York. That day, I drove to Maine and didn’t stop until I hit the beach.

I spent the night in the guest room of someone named Pam’s house. It was just her and her cats, and that seemed pretty chill to me. She had a screened in porch, and I sat out there into the twilight journaling about my summer sojourn. I called my dad to tell him how beautiful Maine was (“There’s no billboards!”) and then I tucked in for the night. 

Pam made really strong coffee. It was just the boost I needed to hit the road again in the morning. I drove straight for Newport, and walked into the first place I saw. I hadn’t eaten for a few states. That lobster roll hit like no other. I walked around the gift shops among tourists, meeting strangers and breathing salt air. It was so refreshing to be unknown. I loved how it felt just going with the flow. 

The rest of my trip was about the same. I spent many moments in solitude on a beach. I was delighted when no one bothered me. I found that I am truly my best travel companion, and couldn’t believe how easy it was to explore the world. It helps that I grew up near Detroit and have excellent street smarts. It also helps that I wasn’t afraid to venture out on my own.

After a few sunsets in New England, I landed back at my roost in Brooklyn just days before the start of my very first “real” job. It was still summer when all that began. And so I adjusted to my new overnight schedule in the heat of August.  

It wasn’t too hard at first. I’ve always been a gifted sleeper. I loved the fact that I could hop on a ferry to the Far Rockaways after my shift. The sweet freedom of eating a bacon egg and cheese on the beach with the elderly people of Queens at 10am on a Tuesday was…unparalleled.

I had spent the muggy months overcoming my summer sadness. And I came out on the other side a little more tan and a whole lot wiser. I realized, just like anything as we age, sometimes we just have to try a little harder to find the magic. And if the wind is right, you can find the joy of innocence again. Seriously, “Sailing” by Christopher Cross is the best song. I will die on this hill. 

A lot of times, that magic doesn’t look too different from when I was a kid. It’s a cup of coffee on the porch in the morning (or evening) sun. Taking up roller blading again, which happened to be my favorite hobby in the 4th grade. A sale on popsicles at the grocery store. The inflatable kiddie pool I set up in the backyard just to beat the heat. 

Summer can still be fun. Even if you have to go to work the next day, nothing is stopping you from going to see your favorite 80s rock band play at the local amphitheater. I did that a few weeks ago, and although I was a little sleepy the next day, nothing compares to rocking out under the stars with people you love. 

What I’ve always loved most about summer is people just seem to be in a better mood. Thank you, sun. That means they’re more likely to do fun shit. Summer is permissible rest. Summer is meant to be fun. Not too serious. Just like the fields of flowers in full bloom, summer isn’t meant to be spent alone. Like a sunflower following the hot summer rays, sometimes you simply have to follow what makes you feel warm. 

So. Go forth and rest easy in what remains of this beautiful summer.