The last real summer I had lasted for almost exactly two months. By "real," I mean: carefree days, stress-free job, late nights, maximum outdoor time, and a sense of freedom unchallenged by constraints of class and lab schedules. In early July, as soon as I received the phone call that offered me my (current) job, I knew my days in the sun (sure, pun intended) were over. And that was okay. It was time to move on. But for this reason, that summer remains two of my most idealized months in recent memory.
It isn't a pretty picture. By the standards of most living situations, mine teetered on squalor. The morning following graduation, I hauled everything accumulated during college to a basement room of a house occupied by a girl, Lindsay, and her lively group of semi-transient friends (by "transient," I mean I never knew who would be crashing on the upstairs couch in the morning). Lindsay and I only knew each other through a first-year French class and subsequent mingling at Froggy's for karaoke Thursdays. Good fortune had my side when I mentioned to her in passing, close to graduation, that I had nowhere to live but was working at the local coffeehouse for the summer. Quickly she offered me a room, to sublease until August. A friendship was born. Boom.
The morning I moved my things into the room, I sat on the two stacked mattresses and stared at the boxes around me, dumbfounded. This was going to be my first bedroom after college. It was messy already, and a little dirty as the previous occupant had to move out quickly, but it was the first space I'd occupied alone since my childhood home. I was dumbfounded not so much from the state of my new bedroom, but by the fact that I was now truly on my own.
When I started the 6am-noon daily full-time shift, it left afternoons for getting better acquainted with my new housemate (and co-barista), Lindsay. In stark contrast to my fungus-infested, flooded bedroom (seriously, I don't lie), Lindsay had the penthouse: a large room on the top of the house that stayed dry and fungus-free. The temperature difference alone was astounding for two bedrooms in the same house. Our kitchen, the meeting spot, served as our restaurant, our bar, our meeting place.
A few exhausting first days into the job, as I crashed on my bed after 6 hours on my feet, Lindsay barreled down and asked me if I "would be boring like this ALL SUMMER." Someone of her energy is hard to match, but I am proud of the way I kept up. In our little house, with the dirty carpet rug, black leather couch (that smelled of old booze from its former residence), Lindsay and I forged a family bond. In the little sunken backyard, we pitched a badminton net and lounged in our bathing suits on semi-broken chairs, listening to music and chatting over a beer or two. It is a scene, in my mind, that warms me with bliss.
Often after our days at home in the yard, we would shower, put on "real" clothes, and venture on down to town. Lindsay lived only a short walk from our favorite hangout, the Tavern, which made it all the easier to make the quick commute. Because it's impossible to simply enjoy a quiet drink with this girl, she taught me a few games to make it even MORE fun (as pictured above). What makes me happy about this picture is that here, we were celebrating her freedom: finishing a 10 day shift filling in as owner to the coffeehouse with mornings starting at 4am. For her "Freedom Party," Lindsay and I dressed up and played her favorite game on our stunning carpet. I lost dismally, and we headed to town.
She brought life to the mundane things, a true talent. Lindsay has limitless passion and intelligence for the world around her. After we moved out of our house, Lindsay took a stint in Peace Corps Madagascar, before her emergency evacuation last March. She lived in town (and with me for a month) until last August, when she landed herself quite a job and quickly moved to Madison. Simply put, I miss her all the time, as she made things joyful in her own unique way (like wine and an Audrey Hepburn movie on Sundays). Our reunions are just as sweet as our brief but sweet time as sister/housemates. Luckily, I see her tomorrow.
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