It Must Be Love

I've been attending the US Open every year since I was 7. It's always been the grand finale to my summers- the last hoorah before returning to school. This year, for one of the few times this 3rd year medical student can count on one hand (and sadly only the beginning of a lifetime of this), I haven't had a summer vacation. The one day I got to go home to NYC to spend at the US Open was the beginning, middle, and end of my summer, my sad summer.

Still, it turned out, as usual, to be everything I wanted and needed it to be. It was my 12 hours on the sidelines of glorious professional tennis. It was my time in the sun where I could forget, for a day, that I wasn't actually having a summer this year. It was time spent in my favorite city on the planet, with family I miss more and more with every year I live in Boston. It was the US Open.

It rejuvenated me. It inspired me. And I realized in the car ride home from Flushing Meadows that lone day that for all the memories I have there, for the anticipation and excitement it creates, for never being disappointing, for being the grand finale, the US Open and I have fireworks. It must be love.