Isaiah Z Johnson

Summer is in full swing, hot and heavy. The air hangs humid over Boston. ACs hum and rattle in the windows. The hose drips, water pooling on the hot driveway sending up wisps of steam. Chimney swifts dart across the patches of sky between the trees and roofs, catching flying insects. The city breathes in and out. It is the time of year when the creep of green in the undergrowth has slowed in anticipation of the fall. Goldenrod is already blooming. Life has been full -- and busy. It has been an unfurling, an unwinding, and an unravelling. New and evolving friendships, new responsibilities at work, the first quarter of my 28th year. Toni and I are moving in September to a one bedroom on the other side of Davis Square. We signed the lease last week. Much has been in flux, and it has been hard to keep track of all the threads - work, family, friends, home. Still, I have been making the most of the summer months. I have spent time with bodies of water -- the Atlantic, the Mystic Lakes, the ...