Category: feelings

I’ve been in the greater Boston area for 12 years now. City living pulses with neon and noise and crowds and you get used to it. It’s normal not to see the Milky Way or anything other than the brightest of stars. Knowing they’re there is enough. Seeing isn’t always believing.

Except for when an after dinner walk in NJ showcases the fireflies. Their bright butts twinkling in the smoky dusk left me breathless. I’m used to street lamps lighting the way, which, to be fair, is romantic in its practicality, but there’s something uniquely delicious in the impractical, infrequent, iridescent illumination of a firefly.

I must not go so long in between visits outside of a city’s borders.

Looking out my windows, the cloud cover was thick, but white. I checked the app on my phone which said only 2% chance of rain. Knowing I’d be walking a lot I wanted my purse to be as light as possible, so I ditched my umbrella. It was a safe bet, I thought.

Don’t I know the house always wins?

For the second time this week, I was caught in a summer rainstorm. The first time was during a softball game. This time, though, I was consciously unprepared. I was mad at myself because I should know better than to trust some app, some radar vs. what I could see with my own two eyes. I’ve been here before in a very similar battle against my GPS. I need to put my trust in myself, not a machine.

As I trudged down Mass Ave, the rain pinged and sizzled against my hot skin. Relief, I thought. At least I’m heading home, I thought, I don’t care what I look like. Then the bus passed me, got stuck at a light, and I caught up to it without even trying. (And believe me, I’ve had to run for many a bus.) This was my exercise for the day. I didn’t want to get on the bus, besides the rain felt nice. I glanced at the sky. At the violet violence churning there. I got on the bus. As the doors closed, the rain graduated from sprinkle to deluge.

Me, a person who is always prepared, went out unprepared, but when the “worst” happened – the skies opened up – things worked out. It may not have been the best or smoothest or cleanest or driest, and it definitely was not the way I’d hoped it’d happen because bus = less exercise, but then again, dry > skinny.

I like those odds.

Due to the down time between camp ending and work ending, a coworker’s child was in the office. I overheard the introduction, “This is my daughter” and I saw the small quirk of a smile from the little girl.

I thought about how my parents have full, busy lives and how they balance that with being parents to adult children and grandparents to young children and how they still provide love, advice, support, and money and how they travel and dream and do and how I have a full, busy life and how I balance that with being a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a friend and how I travel and dream and plan, but haven’t quite mastered the bravery part. I still have some things to learn from them.

I thought how much my smile has grown exponentially (from then to now) whenever my parents introduce me. It bears the fruit of hindsight and clarity and gratitude and love. I wish there was a “take your adult child to work day” because I want to see what they do all day and I want to hear all the accolades their coworkers have for them.

Daughter is a label I wear proudly and I want more opportunities to brag about my parents.

Note to self: Remember this. You can and will succeed. It may be difficult, but you are prepared.

“I’m going to do two blondes. One the same shade as last time. One a bit lighter,” she said.

And it’s how I do everything – in small, minute increments. Barely noticeable. Barely moving.

“I’ve secretly always wanted red hair,” I blurted.

She studied me a moment. “You know, I think you could pull that off. You’ve got the right skin tone. And your hair’s a 7/8 so it would do well with red.”

My head was too full of possibility to inquire what 7/8 hair meant. Whatever it was (tone, hue, texture, length?) I had it and was a candidate for a pipe dream I’ve never voiced out loud before. I like the haircut I’ve got which leaves the color as the only thing available to change.

Friends left and right are leaving to live abroad, and life here sometimes feels stagnant.

Red. Could I really do it?

“We could do a temporary one that would rinse out in a few washes,” she said.

Pretty soon I’m going to start dreaming in red.

[Edited to add: NO. I didn’t go through with it. The blondes were already applied to my head and were steeping, plus, hello?!? I move slowly. I need time to come to terms with this massive change. I only dyed my hair for the first time ever in January 2014. Today was the second time.]