if every angel's terrible...

I think I may be realizing now what it was I loved about this place so many moons ago.

I’m writing this (via Microsoft Word because yes, I am too cheap/lazy to register for Starbucks Wi-Fi) while Tegan & Sara play on a distant radio somewhere between the sounds of froth, parents, and hard work. I’m watching, from a small corner of one of the most quaint, wooden Starbucks I’ve ever seen, a child eat with what may be her grandmother, working women and men come in and out getting their caffeine for the day, and young people coming in in denim and cardigans. It’s the kind of New Jersey thing that nobody else, looking in, would ever find lovable or charming, but it’s why the suburbs are such a wonderful thing.

A parking lot outside, lives inside, and the sun.

It brings back memories of my mom’s surprises for me, when we would stop at Dunkin’ Donuts so I could get a latte in high school and middle school, and the walks my friends and I would embark on to reach the local coffee place.

I’m about to get on a two-hour train to reality, where I’ll be forced to act adult and pretend I’m unfazed by the stillness of city strangers and the attitude of commuters. But right now, frozen in the middle of a word document as suits, heels, and sneakers collide, I am reminded of the peace, the quiet, and the community I’d left behind.

Here’s to the summer, and to making it everything I had ever dreamed of. I may even learn to love the overgrown grass next to the highway and the conservative attitudes of one of the narrowest counties in the country. But if I don’t, I can always cherish the summer breeze and the feeling of the sun on the granite.