Erica Zendell

Jul 31, 2019

5 min read

30, “figured out.”

July marks the middle of summer, meaning that all the warm weather is halfway to being gone in Boston. I start to feel guilt for all the trips I didn’t take or people I didn’t see. I look at pictures on social media of friends who took long weekends on the Cape, sipped Rosé on rooftops of various cities with actual Happy Hour specials, and traveled somewhere scenic, whether to sunbathe on some foreign beach or hike to some nearby mountaintop. I romanticize all the things I could have seen and done, and then I remember that I much prefer autumn weather in Boston and I’m far more content staying put than wandering about. I…