Oh to be here.
New Brunswick and the heat of summer with potatoes growing ever further down into the earth and everything else headed up. Sunflowers in bloom in the garden and a farm stand every time you turn the corner.
River too cold to swim in and no pool but all right anyway. Paths to walk down with butterflies that swoop and almost sing as they rise into the sky. Even the rain smelling cleaner than it did back home and stars that shine in a sky blacker than anything back home in New York.
Well, Canada home sort of but not the same. Used to subways and all that and that it doesn’t have. Toronto on vacations but the rest in sneakers that lace up and a bicycle that almost seems to ride itself.
But not always like that. The Bronx in the winter and Long Island in the summer but swim teams to swim on at Miss Porter’s and Georgetown.
Team captain missed by one vote but a joy it was . . .practices that went on forever and races over in an instant but nothing else . . .no husband or children to tend . . . whatever one wants and that all day long.