On summer break, a poem
Tucked into the hillocks and vales of Maine, with no pipettes to wield, no newspaper articles to draft, no middle schoolers to teach, I was amid summer vacation at last. My Yankee bones, like New England weather, never seem to linger in one place too long, so when someone says “vacation,” I often think “boredom.” And with sophomore year behind me and my internship a month away, I was deep in the doldrums. But then a friendly phrase of Eliot House Master Doug Melton breezed across my memory. “I think boredom can be a good thing. It makes you figure out what you would do if you could do it.” I thought back over the last semesters and asked myself: When I wanted time, what did I want it for? To read was the answer, and so read I did. I read when I fished; I read things I hadn’t the chance...