i take it all back (except all of my comments on how your drivers do not know how to use turn signals, i will never take that back).
i miss you, okay? two months away from you was a good call on my part. we were just in each other’s faces all the time.
and be honest, you weren’t being very nice to me towards the end. at all. remember that homeless woman that made me crash my bike at the intersection of mass. ave and boylston? and that really crappy roommate that threw ragers with underaged girls in my apartment without telling me, like all the time? and having to go inside of a bank of america in general? okay, good.
regardless, i miss you.
i miss my bike. the day i’m reunited with my dear peugeot, millie, will be a joyous one.
i miss you in the summer time. the harbor seals. all the summer concerts i am missing right now. the fact that there was always a food truck around the corner from me at the perfect time for when a lavender lemonade craving struck. just like out of a nicholas sparks novel or a 90′s rom-com, you kind of know me better than i know myself, don’t you?
i miss my midnight runs to tasty burger and how many cooks i am on a first-name basis with there.
i miss how being a ginger is actually a good thing in boston (deals on farmer’s market strawberries! free cookies! people don’t make fun of me!) which i always assumed was because of city-wide empathy for the irish famine. i mean, right?
i miss swing-dancing at m.i.t. and getting asked by one of my favorite dance partners, don the big-hearted pastor from maine, when i was going to take him on a bike ride on the minuteman.
i miss the italian men at haymarket that yelled either berry prices or insults about other vendor’s mothers on saturday afternoons.
i miss biking to the theater district for school. i miss the heavy bags full of renaissance literature. and the $2 iced coffees from emcafe (have mercy).
i miss prancing around harvard square in my knee socks. and walking around the playground with mir-cat, sandwiches and trains in tow. and reading in the multicolored lawn chairs in harvard yard. and studying in the law library with jane and a steaming thermos full of milky, earl grey tea. and “hey, pretty lady!” man that greets me literally every time i walk by him in the square.
i miss the family dinners in mission hill with the future roommates, and the inevitable dance parties to miley cyrus that would break out.
i miss the novelty of taking the redline and crossing the bridge and seeing you all sprawled out for me, hancock building reflecting everything. the novelty hasn’t quite faded yet and i hope it doesn’t for a while.
so let’s bury the hatchet for now, okay? i’ll see you on the 21st, so please make yourself presentable. i know you will.