The kitchen floor was cold under my bare feet this morning. I’m shivering in my PJ’s – a white tank top and thin, flowery pants. I had to close a window to minimize the chill while I write, and I considered going back upstairs for my slippers. Today is July 29.
The kids and I are on each other’s last nerves. All day, every day, is an awful lot of together time. We do well when we are outside where there are no walls to bounce our energy and irritation back at us, so we went for a family bike ride on Sunday. On our ride, I could not get over the profusion of green in Appalachia in summer. Along the bike path, where in winter the shoulders lay brown and barren, broad leaves and thick stalks now formed a dense thicket that would require a machete to pass. Waist high grasses, purple thistle, and white Queen Anne’s lace blanketed horse pastures, and wooden fences were buried beneath thick blackberry brambles, honeysuckle vines, and the candy red berries of deadly nightshade. Cattails and prickly heads of teasel swayed on stems taller than my shoulders as I pedaled by, and morning glory vines clambered over shrubs, reaching even higher.
It occurred to me yesterday, amidst this abundance of life, and again this morning with the chill creeping in through open windows and up through the floors, that summer will not last forever. This lushness, these flowers, the fireflies with their twinkling lights; the pasta making, the berry picking, the drifting, unplanned days; the play dates, the camping trips, the liberty to travel – all of these will soon fade.
On our ride, my heart swelled with pride as our daughter attacked a long, steep hill. She refused to dismount and walk her bike up it, and she pedaled all the way to the top without stopping. Meanwhile, our son had gotten off near the bottom, and I hopped off too to keep him company. I walked my bike behind him and couldn’t help but smile as he pushed his knobby-tired Trek up the hill, bopping his helmeted head in his happy-go-lucky way. I soaked them up, our determined daughter and our stop-and-smell-the-flowers son, just as I soaked up the emerald leaves and the profusion of blooms on our ride back home. Summer will not last forever. I’d better enjoy it while I can.
Butterfly Mind 
Andrea, I’m a high school teacher and I’m feeling the same way–only a tad nervous and anxious about another new year with new kids who have been on their parents’ last nerve! I’m trying to relish this last two weeks even though I’m frantically scurrying with curriculum and Advanced Placement Literature plans! Plus wanting to do my own writing…and poof–there it goes. Back to “How to integrate quotes” and “Let’s use a fairy tale to understand literary analysis vs. plot summary”!
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“How to integrate quotes” and “Let’s use a fairy tale to understand literary analysis vs. plot summary” – I wish I could take your class 🙂 I hope you are able to find at least a tiny bit of time to enjoy these last fleeting days of summer. Maybe take your coffee (or tea?) outside with your pen and a journal one morning and give yourself an hour to write, just for you.
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I will try that! I do try that…and then my “butterfly mind” (best title in the universe) takes off and I wander…and then feel guilty for not completing school junk and then a flitter and flutter off to read cool blogs like yours and then I’m lost. Back to which Grimm’s fairy tale I want to use—Did you know that there is an Annotated Grimm’s Fairy Tales? Ordered it from Powell’s. I’m frolicking. If you ever want to read a blog about a middle-aged quirky woman/teacher/grandmother I, too blog. And I blog for my teenaged students, too. Two blogs. Eesh. What was I thinking?
http://cindyloucamp.com
http://survivalgirls.wordpress.com
I keep wanting someone to tell me how to do this better. In your free, non-butterflyish time when children are poised and relatively calm. Grace.
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As a wise friend of mine said: we don’t have only one feeling at a time. It’s normal to want the kids back in a routine *and* simultaneously want to hang on to the moment, knowing it will pass. My challenge is allowing myself to feel both, not judge either reaction, and, of course, continue to breathe and write 🙂
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Thank you for that Lesley. Your friend is wise indeed.
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You captured perfectly all that is summer, Lovely sentiment that is beautifully written. Thanks for sharing your day.
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Thank you Mike, I appreciate that.
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I miss those carefree summers and wouldn’t trade time spent doing things like catching fireflies with my daughter for anything. Trying to adjust to life with her going about making her own life now. I know it’s the way things should be, but it’s hard.
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I’m already dreading those days. I try to take consolation in the fact that the separation will happen gradually. Please tell me that’s true.
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I wish I could, but it seemed too quick to me. At 15 and part of 16, I was needed all the time as the chaperone driver. I spent so much time getting her to work, piano lessons, and homeschool activities. She turned 16 and it seemed like…bye mom.
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The good part is we’re still close and talk a lot. 🙂
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What a beautiful moving picture! I can feel the grass swaying in the breeze when I read this.
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Ditto – haven’t popped over for a while, but so glad I did. Yesterday I watched my daughter get excited about gathering pine cones and the thought fleeted across my mind, ‘this won’t last forever’. A lovely, moving post, thank you.
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