Dear Beach, Apologies for not visiting you this bummer of a summer, but you probably enjoyed the solitude. Just you and some polite dog walkers and the usual crowd of pelicans, dolphins, and ghost crabs. Oh, yeah, and that eight-foot alligator—that must have been a surprise drop-in. But no blaring radios, loud crowds, or left-behind trash. You’ve been a constant in my life, from skinny dipping book club nights to moon-viewing to scattering the ashes of a beloved dog. There were Sunday afternoon Bloody Marys in a thermos and the New York Times, long walks with friends, and the time I was recovering from surgery and trekked down on my lunch hour every day to sit in the sun and simply heal. Most of all, I miss lying on your soft shoulder with my eyes closed and the heart rhythm of the surf filling every part of my brain with only now, only now, only now. XOXO Nikki
Dear September, Your turn in the calendar year always signaled a psychic turn, a change in the light, new energy after the dog days of summer. Regardless of the official start of classes, September meant back-to-school clothes, lumbering yellow buses, a clean slate. It never mattered that I wasn’t in school any longer—as soon as you appeared, I found myself in fresh-notebook state of mind. I dreamed of brave new projects, old cashmere sweaters, brisk walks instead of sweaty trudges through molasses-thick air. This year, though, masks are the new uniforms, classes are in the ether/or, and social distancing has outlined all the lonely spaces between us. The lessons we learn this year might be harder, but extra credit for everyone who signs up for hope. XOXO Nikki
