Summertime on the coast is almost everything I imagined it would be. I've been shopping for bikes painted in ice cream colors, eyeing women on the street who dress as deliciously as they do on my inspiration boards (feet colorful and patent-heeled, eyelids dewey and glitter-swiped), listening to music so wistfully nostalgic that it recalls a life nothing like my own, taking sunset walks through my enthusiastically blooming neighborhood, and picking some of the stems for the lonely vase on my coffee table.
It was so wonderful to have a visitor in my tiny place, if just for an evening. We watched an episode of True Life about sugar mamas and ate pizza while sitting cross legged on the carpet. He looked through my postcards while Julian Casablancas crooned in the background and I lit my Jesus candles. Just as swiftly, those precious hours passed and I was back to my early morning treks to work and he went back to sleep in a marvelous house perched next to the sea.
It's hard to get your bearings after such an emotionally charged weekend. We drove across the state lines so that I could tie the sash on my second bridesmaid dress and watch one of my dearest soul sisters marry her beloved. Musicians played late into the night and the string lights were refracted through my constantly teary lenses. Sublime.
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