Everything I Will Accomplish During My Perfectly Curated Adult Summer

I will read many books in many places. I will read at the beach, I will read in a European café’s outdoor seating section, I will read on a train as it traverses through a mountainous coastline.

On a rainy day, I will clean out my closet. I will donate the sweaters I didn’t wear this winter, or the winter before, or the three winters before that.

I will host some friends for a backyard barbecue. Sounds of their casual laughter will carry into the yard next door, and I’ll invite our new neighbors, Dan and Stacey, to join the fun.

I will be spontaneous.

After what happened last summer, I will not run after the Freddy’s Frozen Freaks ice cream truck. Freddy will know my order by heart: a chocolate soft-serve ice cream cone with rainbow sprinkles on one side and Oreo crumbles on the other.

I will wear strappy heels, damn it!

I will finally make time to watch Game of Thrones.

Over espresso martinis with my close friends, Dan and Stacey, I will slip a mention that I have never been to the state of Massachusetts, crazily enough. They take pity and invite me to their summer cottage in Cape Cod for the weekend, or perhaps the whole week. They tell me I am family now.

I will get a singular sunburn. Thereafter, I will maintain a glowing, tasteful tan.

I will become a regular at my local farmer’s market. With my abundance of produce, I will create a sensational summer salad. The recipe goes viral on TikTok, and I field offers from Alison Roman and Ina Garten to include it in their upcoming cookbooks. I graciously decline.

I will sip coffee while watching the sunrise, basking in the glory of another beautiful day ahead of me.

I will start and complete a full length screenplay.

Dan and Stacey will tell me, adoringly, that Cape Cod suits me. As we stroll together along the shoreline, they make me promise that I’ll be a part of their lives forever. “Of course,” I assure them, and we embrace in a platonic group hug. They won’t know I’ve hired a hidden photographer to capture the moment… I had a feeling they’d propose.

I will learn to breaststroke in a manner that does not resemble a drowning cat gasping for air.

I will spend a reasonable amount of money on fun tokens at a local carnival, and no bolts will come loose from the temporary amusement ride installments. I feel the sun kiss my proverbial forehead from atop the Wonder Wheel.

I will try out a bob. Or a lob. Or at least get a trim.

I will bike along well-paved streets, flowers and baguettes peeking out from my wooden basket.

Dan and Stacey will have to leave me and return to their careers and responsibilities—it’s September, after all. They’re heartbroken. But the cottage shouldn’t sit empty! They hand me my own set of keys, monogrammed with my initials. I nod, knowing that’s a touch from Stacey. I shut the door behind them. Alone, finally, I will shout, “Cape Cod is mine!”