These things I know.

I've had a memorable summer. Not in the sense that there were epic things happening at every turn, but in the sense that I will always, always remember - and fondly - the summer of 2012.

I'm a big marker-of-time. I always have been. Usually it's on New Year's, a birthday or maybe a landmark date (say the day I moved to NYC). But as I'm finally sitting down to write on the blog I've neglected, I'm looking back on the summer - from the beginning of May to now, the end of August - and marking the passing of time and events. Next week I'll leave for North Carolina, to spend the last week of summer vacation in the very place I began it - on the sand in Emerald Isle. A fitting bookend I think.

In May, as the lazy, hazy days of summer stretched before me, full of the bright promise that really only summer brings, I sat on a beach with my parents, my book, my iPhone (shhh!) and a smile on my face. 2012 was turning out to be a good year. Business, by which so many of us use as a litmus test to the times, was good, my personal life was rich with friends, a new relationship full of potential and excitement and chemistry was blooming, my family was as they always have been - supportive and inspiring and hysterical - and life was good.

This isn't a tale of how bad things got, or how quickly it all fell apart. Far from it. This is just a look back, a reminder of the events of that time in my life, the music that was on non-stop rotation on my iPhone, the people I knew and how lucky I was, and am.

So, I'm going to make a list of the highlights of Summer of 2012. Since this blog is for me, and the five family members that follow, you'll allow me this. A list is really all I need to remember how the days felt, the music sounded, the Txakoli flowed, of the conversations had, the bike rides taken, the plans made, the heat, the storms, the tears, the worries, then how they stopped, the sunsets, the nights + mornings that followed and the people. These are the things I know.

Kelli Beale Fletcher. The 'rents. Wendy Burns. Deby Pan. Jennifer Powell. Lil Bro. Dr. Shapiro. Patience (the bike, and having it). The view from the rooftop of 248 with Emily Williams. Emerald Isle. Jackson Hodges. Derby de Mayo. Txikifest. Lesa McHale. fun. Sundays at 10 Degrees. Steven + Tommy in NYC. Youth by Foxes on repeat. Midnight City cranked to e-le-ven. Kittypants. The Modern. Lesley, Mona, Helene + Emma. Sleepovers with ice cream - lots of ice cream. Heartbreaker (The film). Rooftop sunsets and sunrises. Kevin. A holiday in Vermont. Rosé, rosé, rosé. Florence singing her heart out at RCMH. Heirloom tomatoes for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Micheladas. Sunday dinners with Marissa. Learning to sear scallops. Conversations and confessions over Turkish Eggs. Frenchie brunches and boozy lunches. Bandaids as accessories. Beach House. Floating in the pool. Nick of Time. Hours spent at Edi + The Wolf. Ryan Adams. Mallory + Jess. Betting, and winning. The Paris Wife. Revel + Riot. 6th Street CSA. Pulled pork 'n Maryland crabs. Foster the People under the stars at Central Park. Late-night, last-minute karaoke trips. Ameztoi Txakoli. "Yeah, It's all alright." And how it turned out to be.

And there it is. The people, places and things that made my summer 2012. And because I don't hate a sunset. Here's one of my favorites. Ever.

August 2012, 248 East 2nd St. rooftop.

And I know it well.

I spent last weekend with my sister + brother (in-law, but not a necessary descriptor) in Cambridge. There's something about Cambridge. I've felt it from the first time I set foot there with Kelli's cat in a box. True story.

But this time - this visit - was even more special. Maybe it was the rebirth of spring and its ever-fulfilling promise to renew. Maybe it was having been a long while since I spent good time with my favorite two. Maybe it was because we had weathered the winter, the last year and were finally facing the sun. It was most likely a combination of all, and each of us felt it.

There were picnics and playlists; long, honest conversations that only the closest of people can have and the silences made comfortable by the presence of loved ones. There was laughter too, and more rosé then we knew what to do with, but it was the conversations, the silences and the knowing that left its marks on me.

Perhaps that's why our Trifecta, never one for drawn-out goodbyes, said farewell-for-now listening to Blood Bank. Without knowing exactly what was in the others' minds, we were all struck by the same lyric. That's what happens when you know someone so well. And in return they know you as well as you know yourself - maybe better at times. I needed that reminder last weekend. And there, in the streaming Cambridge sun with my family - our heads down for the first time that weekend - I got it.

"And I know it well, I know it well."

Rose-colored glasses at Radcliffe.