Summer Nights \\ Summer Dreams

The air was sticky. I couldn't even tell if I was sweating or not. I cruised through the streets on a calm Sunday night in Boston. There were plenty of people out, but it didn't feel rowdy. Many were eating dinner in parking spots turned outdoor bistros—a holdover solution from restaurants trying to survive during the pandemic. I hope it stays that way.

I wasn't really sure why I was biking around in the afterglow of a prematurely hot summer day. I had a busy weekend—Friday night at Fenway and a Saturday spent tooling around Portland, ME with my old pals. I was dehydrated and a little hungover. But I still decided to venture out on my bike. I don't like the feeling of being trapped in a dark bedroom waiting for Monday to begin. Especially not when the weather is warm and the days are long.

I've always been a big Bruce Springsteen fan. The towns we're from in Massachusetts and New Jersey respectively, are not that different after all. We each spend summers down the Cape or on the Shore. There's a pervasive theme of everlasting lust for freedom and an escape from your hometown. We all felt trapped during the pandemic, but I've felt that way for a while and that's part of why I identify with a man who wrote Born to Run. It's a hard feeling to grapple with, while living fairly comfortably in a decent part of the world. Certainly things could be much worse.

I fear that if I were to leave New England, I'd find that the grass isn't always greener. I've never lived anywhere else, but I've traveled around quite a bit now and gained a lot of perspective from it. However, a week or two spent as a tourist in some place doesn't net the same experience of living there.

Everything's inflated, rent is too high anywhere worth living, and the act of moving is just flat out expensive. I haven't been able to make it work yet, and I'm anxious that it's getting too late. But I keep dreaming of getting out of here. Summer nights turn into summer dreams, but what are dreams if unrealized? I feel like my aimless wandering is a sign. I've biked 32 miles over the past two days, and I don't even feel sore or tired. I can't quit being restless.