This isn’t Summer Break

My dearest incurable humanists,

Yesterday was Memorial Day, which, at least semi-officially, marks the beginning of summer. This makes me think about milestones.

When we’re in school, the end of the year is a significant milestone. There's a sense of finality to it. A report card arrives to validate your effort and quantify your growth. You get to see, through numbers and letters, that you succeeded.

And then: a fresh start. New notebooks. New pens. A new teacher. A new season.

As adults, we don’t get that same sense of closure or reset. We have W2s, not report cards. Nothing that says “You did it. You’ve earned a break. Now start fresh.”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be an adult. Weirdly, the part I miss most about high school isn’t the friendships or the chaos of teenage social life. It’s the learning. I was such a nerd. When I had a test, I couldn’t sleep the night before, not from anxiety, but from excitement. I couldn’t wait to pour everything I had studied onto the page; to show the teacher I had gone the extra mile. Then, a week later, the joy of getting the exam back, the grade circled in red.

In those summers, I curated my days like a syllabus filling them with classes, travel, yoga, and vocal coaching. I jogged, devoured books of my choosing, and gave myself writing prompts like challenges. There were teenage romances, too. Exhilarating and fleeting. All-consuming. Agonizing. I curated playlists like soundtracks for a movie; half chart-toppers, half obscure indie tracks I spent hours hunting down. I’d blast Avril Lavigne and Taylor Swift on repeat, singing like a mantra: “Someday I’ll be living in a big old city…” while daydreaming of New York. Back then, New York was just a fantasy now it’s my reality. Talk about manifesting.

I love New York. But it’s not what the Hollywood promised. New York isn’t all skylines and serendipity. It’s not Carrie Bradshaw strutting around in heels, avoiding the subway. It’s not Rachel Green working at a café and getting a corporate job at Bloomingdale’s overnight.

New York is many things. New York is $8 lattes and $100 dinners that add up. It’s a $40 Pilates class and rent to test your devotion. It’s hard. But I wouldn’t change it because New York is also freedom and endless possibilities. Because here, you can be your truest self. Everyone rides the subway. Everyone hustles. Everyone watches the seasons change and remembers a different version of themselves.

I do miss those summer resets. Maybe the milestone isn’t the end of a school year, but a shift in ourselves. And maybe we can still allow ourselves to begin again.