Featured
Dear September, Your turn in the calendar year always signaled a psychic turn, a change in the light, new energy after the dog days of summer. Regardless of the official start of classes, September meant back-to-school clothes, lumbering yellow buses, a clean slate. It never mattered that I wasn’t in school any longer—as soon as you appeared, I found myself in fresh-notebook state of mind. I dreamed of brave new projects, old cashmere sweaters, brisk walks instead of sweaty trudges through molasses-thick air. This year, though, masks are the new uniforms, classes are in the ether/or, and social distancing has outlined all the lonely spaces between us. The lessons we learn this year might be harder, but extra credit for everyone who signs up for hope. XOXO Nikki
DEAR ZILLOW: I SPENT TOO MUCH TIME TODAY TROLLING THROUGH YOUR LISTINGS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW MUCH MY 1,074-SQUARE-FOOT HOUSE IS WORTH NOW. IS MY 3 BDRM BETTER OR WORSE THAN MY NEIGHBOR'S 3 BDRM 3 BLOCKS AWAY? WHY DIDN'T I ADD A BATHROOM WHEN I HAD THE EXTRA MONEY? IS MY SCRUBBY YARD A DEAL-BREAKER? I HAVE EQUITY ANXIETY, BUT WHAT YOU DON’T SHOW, ZILLOW, ARE THE NUMBER OF PORCH PARTIES HELD IN THIS TINY HOUSE. THE BLESSINGS THAT BLOW THROUGH MY PRAYER FLAGS. THE ROSEBUSH A FRIEND GAVE ME AFTER MY MOTHER DIED AND THE NOTE I WROTE TO HER AND PLANTED UNDER ITS ROOTS. THE FIRST DINNER I COOKED HERE FOR A NEW LOVER (OKAY, IT DIDN'T WORK OUT, BUT IT WAS STILL A LANDMARK). THE LITTLE BAMBOO FOREST THAT SHELTERS BIRDS LIKE A CHINESE POEM. COMING HOME ON A WINTER NIGHT AND PULLING THE HOUSE AROUND ME LIKE A SECURITY BLANKET. PRICELESS. XOXO NIKKI
Dear Summer: When you showed up on the porch bearing a bottle of rose and smelling of Coppertone after months of Lysol and loneliness, quarantine and chaos, pajamas and panic, you gave us hope again. You brought thoughts of bare feet and beach chairs, ceiling fans and farmers’ markets, ripe tomatoes and perfect peaches. You gave us sunlit Vitamin D, cicada songs and thunderstorms and even a comet. In the midst of mourning and masks and misery, you reminded us to hang onto moments of juice and joy no matter how small. XOXO NIKKI
Dear New Day, Wake me up, shake the feathers out of my head, give me a hug as strong as a grizzly, a kiss on the mouth before breakfast. Start me up with bells clanging in every steeple, dogs barking, birds singing the dawn up, car horns blowing, foghorns in the harbor, sonic booms, oven doors sighing, tea kettles whistling, bike bells jangling, school buses braking, garbage cans racketing. Remind me that this is the day I could win the lottery, save a life, meet a soul mate, get good news, master Warrior III pose (ok, that’s a stretch), fold a fitted sheet (not impossible, but unlikely) find a $50 bill, or learn something new (kangaroo words!). Roll me out of bed with “Aloha!” on my lips instead of “leave me alone!” Dear unpredictable, full-of-possibility day, help me remember that every sunrise can be a surprise party for one. I’ll bring the Champagne! XOXO Nikki