Massachusetts: Daily Life in the Summer

Wake up. Kiss the boy. Brush the teeth. One of the bathrooms in our apartment is out. Plumbing issue, being worked on. Hydrate. Liquid breakfast. Kiss the boy. “I miss you when I’m at work.” “I miss you when I’m at school!” See you later alligator. In a while, crocodile. Kiss the boy. Kiss the wife. Walk to work. Watch the big excavators bringing down a building. Bits and pieces of the Joslin live on, in my alveoli. Work work work. Remember to hydrate. Remember to pee. Remember to eat. Work work work. Find something to be grateful for (this part, usually easy, best part of work). Walk home. Pick the boy. Time slows down. Playground, library, pretend gorillas. “I’m scary [scared], will you protect me?” on the playground slide. Again and again and again. It makes him happy to do the same thing over and over, to know that I’m still there, that my patience hasn’t worn thin, that I still have it in me. Meal prep, dinner, large pizzas once a week. Cut some fruit for dessert: “Mmm… crunchy!” he says about this summer’s nectarines. Almost nightly, we watch the first thirty minutes of My Neighbor Totoro in Mandarin Chinese. The older he gets, the more ground we lose to English; we’ll take any help we can get. He tells us animatedly (in full English paragraphs) about why some trains need one locomotive, others need two, still others need three. “Daddy, speak to me in English,” he says. I say that I like speaking Chinese (in Chinese) and give him a big hug. Clean up the living room. Bath time. Two picture books before bed. Kiss the boy. Exercise, shower, journal, read. Meditate. Die. Wake up.

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July 11, 2026: A trip to East Boston to watch the Parade of Tall Ships celebrating the 250th anniversary of the United States. We walk the promenade of Piers Park with the crowds, enjoying frozen watermelon lemonade, plant-based ice cream, and free hot dogs and drinks. Jordan is very vaguely amused by the ships, but more excited by the orbiting news helicopters (“Ducky One and Ducky Two!”) and the Blue/Green train rides on either end of the morning.

July 18, 2026: A morning outing to Newton’s Crystal Lake - a regular summer destination for us, this year tinted a mute yellow by the haze of Canadian wildfires. We round the lake and play fetch with Annie the over-excited greyhound, followed by a stop in Newton Centre for books, second breakfast, and Asian groceries.

Worcester: Purple Train Weekend

Searching for last-minute outings to take on the July 4th holiday weekend, Jane and I decide to bring our train boy on his second big commuter rail trip (“Purple train! Purple train!”), spending two nights across the rotary from Worcester’s Union Station. I have odd memories of this place from my college years; the bus depot outside the station is where the Peter Pan coach buses would pause on certain trips between New Haven and Boston. Otherwise, I have spent zero time and made it no further in downtown Worcester, and this weekend only expands the radius a little more. We spend our two days lounging in the hotel suite, swimming in the pool, ordering takeout, and hitching a ride to the Ecotarium for Jordan to see its various displays: a rocket ship, a stegosaurus statue, and yet another train ride.

This being a family vacation (and not at all a photography trip), we pack light, all three of us sharing one suitcase for the commuter rail ride. I bring along my trusty old RX100IV, which spanned 2017-2019 and all of my residency-era photography outings (such as our honeymoon in Wyoming, our Faroe Islands trip, Big Sur, and a good deal of work in Maryland). The photos here are presented without further editorialization or post-processing - a sign of the times!

Brookline: Under the Spring Wind

On the heels of our family trip to Iceland, Jane and Jordan and I return to a Brookline in full bloom, a long and hard winter finally giving way to warm weather and sunlight. After the better part of two months either cooped indoors (extremely sick due to a series of viral infections following Jordan’s move to his new preschool) or away for work or travel, we’ve starting to settle into the familiar, if belated, patterns of spring. There are still many transitions we’re working through as a family, and the future is a scarce and hazily-known entity, but there’s a certain constancy about the season: the return of after-dinner playground runs, long strolls through our beautiful neighborhood, and making plans to be outdoors on the weekends - all the while savoring the spring wind, the heavy whiff of pollen, and the colorful display of flowering trees. And yet, the season brings new occasions as well. I continue working on the nighttime series that I started over the winter. Jordan, three years and three months old, is growing into his outsized personality. I can increasingly see portions of myself in him: despite his occasional moodiness and demandingness, he is brilliantly empathic and loving, and it’s been a joy to teach him to how to notice and care for others. And his likes and joys in life are evolving and becoming more nuanced: he is just as much the locomotion rail-fanatic he always has been, but he also expresses joy after simple things like a nice restaurant outing, a new adventure in the wilds, or a quiet evening at home, spent cuddling and talking in bed. More and more, I can see my old life emerging out of the ether of early parenthood - transformed, to be sure, but nevertheless recognizable. A vision of how I might make use of my limited time on Earth (and with Jordan) has continued to take shape; a little less blind faith is required year by year.

Our future in Brookline remains uncertain, but for now, we are here, and we continue the welcome march toward summer. On the docket are many more new experiences: a family visit to Seattle and road-trip around the Olympic Peninsula (late May), more overnight camping experiences here in the Bay State (summer), and some travel up toward New Hampshire (July). Amidst all the best-laid plans and provisions, life, as it tends to do, goes on.

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May 3, 2026: A Sunday evening stroll around the neighborhood with Jane and Jordan. Taking advantage of a calm weekend of service coverage, we grab Chinese dinner together in Brookline Village. With departure of a long, cold winter, it feels like all of the flowering trees in Boston are going off simultaneously, ignoring their usual procession and erupting into a riotous fiesta of life and colour. Crabapples, redbuds, pear, and several varieties of cherry are finally in bloom, an entire month later than the forsythias and magnolias that came at their usual appointed time. On the way home, (Jordan staying up later than usual), I continue my project on lighted windows at dusk.

May 4, 2026: Daycare pickup is where the magic happens. We goof off in a random lot in Brookline Village before hitting up the Henry Bear’s Park toy store followed by a classic neighborhood dinner at Bottega di Capri. Another playground on the stroll home - the sun setting late, the fruit trees in bloom.

May 10, 2026: Mother’s Day on the beach in Revere. Jane and I try to fly a kite while Jordan digs around with his shovel and a bucket (our small kitchen trash can). Jane winds up horizontal with Jordan climbing all over her. The one day of the year when the abuse is not only normalized, but celebrated.