Two Bowls Full of Summer Dreams

The Boston Globe

They weren't fishbowls, though that's how I remember them; two, clear glass tubs full of white paper strips that held my youngest daughter's dreams.  She was 16 and we were in New York City for six weeks, subletting an apartment because she'd been admitted to the American Academy of Dramatic Arts for a summer program, and I wouldn't let her go alone.

The afternoon we arrived, even before her father set up my computer (this was before laptops were affordable) then drove back home, she wrote down all the things she wanted to see and do in 42 days. One bowl she designated for nights and filled it with things we could do in a few hours. The other was for weekends.

We walked 35 blocks to the Empire State Building our first night in the city. The first weekend we rode the Staten Island Ferry. All week long, she studied and I wrote. But every night and every weekend we played.

That's what I want to do this summer. Play. Make two bowls and fill them with a few dreams. Maybe not go out every night, but most nights and at least one day a weekend, never mind all the have-tos and should-dos.

I was 9 the last time I walked up Bunker Hill Monument. I want to do this again. I want to explore Mount Auburn Cemetery. All the trees are labeled there, and it's old and beautiful and I've been only once in my life.

I want to go again.

I want to go to Maine, too, to the Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens with my friend Anne, because she knows the names of everything. And I want to stay at her house for a few days and play cribbage and Scrabble and scream when she wins (she wins all the time) and drink wine and do nothing but talk and talk.

I want to go to House of Seven Gables and the Salem Witch Museum. I've never been.

And go back to Santa's Village and Davis Farm with my kids and their kids before the big ones get too old to love these places.

I want to take a Movie Site Tour in Boston. I've taken the tours in Los Angeles and Monterey and San Francisco. But never in my own back yard.

I want to rent a bike and explore the HarborWalk.

And the Cape Cod Rail Trail, too. 

I want to go to Nauset Beach and Provincetown for a day.

And spend a weekend at Scarborough Beach in Maine and walk the cliff walk at Prouts Neck, because this little finger of land is my favorite place in the world.

I want to go to Sullivan's at Castle Island and eat a lobster roll at least once a week, because Sullivan's has the best lobster rolls — all lobster, no fillers — and the best prices.

I want to take advantage of Free Fridays with the kids and check out all the museums.

I want to drive to Hudson, N.Y., and visit my cousins who are all grown up now. Who spent so many summer days with me when they were little and their mom drove them to me.

I want to sit on my deck and read "Fish" because the author, Gregory Mone, lives in my town and a friend gave me his book three years ago, and unless I write "Read 'Fish' " on a piece of paper and pull it out of a bowl, this will not happen because it's a kids' book, and there's always something more pressing to read when you're an adult. 

I want to drop in on my friend Lois because I haven't seen her in way too long a time. 

I want to go to the Napoleon Room at Club Cafe not just every Wednesday night, when Michael Kreutz sings and plays Broadway show tunes, which I do all year. I want to go and hear live music there other nights, every night that I can.

Maybe it's impossible to do what you want when you're not on vacation or subletting someone else's place. Maybe it's impossible to ignore dirty floors and grass that needs to be cut, bills and laundry and work you should do, or someone who needs something now.

But for this summer anyway, I am going to try.