This is not the summer I had planned and imagined and dreamed of during every long winter night. Both cooler and busier than I expected, I like it more and less than I thought I would. Despite the garbage strike that just doesn't seem like it will ever end, the city is still beautiful and bursting with plans. I still would like to watch the city on water, and I'd like to watch an old favourite on a blanket near the water, and I'd like stickier nights and stickier mornings, but there's still a month and a half left for all these wishes (and others) to come true.
This summer is not like the last few because there are no drives down deserted nighttime country roads where you're flying along with Maggie May and your boy by your side. And there are no boat rides into the sunset with rainbows bouncing off the water and your hair tangling in your smile. But there are visits from faraway friends and your most favourite boy to look forward to, and there is more happiness than sadness and there is sunshine and there is time passing and hope growing in the meantime.