See You Next Summer

To be honest, I don’t really like summer that much. I don’t do well in the heat. I’m not made of hardy stock. I tend to get the vapors and other delicate woman ailments, which basically mean, I don’t enjoy being hot.

But this year, I’m sort of melancholy at the end of summer. I love back to school: the supplies, new shoes, backpacks and lunch boxes. But something  about the lazy days sleeping in and pooling with friends is hard to say goodbye to. I was working a lot at the beginning of summer and not at all at the end. I started going to the neighborhood pool and made some friends with other moms there. I didn’t know them otherwise, so I didn’t have to be self-conscious about my swimwear. They talk to their kids they way I talk to Monkey Boy, which is to say irreverent, but loving. They were slow afternoons, and so healthy for me and my overstimulated brain.

The pool closes when school starts. I’m doing house projects I’ve wanted to get done for awhile. Monkey Boy has a much more structured schedule with school and he needs that. The heat from the hottest summer on record seems to have FINALLY broken. (Please God, don’t let it come back.) Labor Day is here and white shoes will make their last stand. While Fall doesn’t officially arrive until September 21, for all practical purposes, it’s here.

It’s a trade off, this end of summer. Autumn is my favorite season. I love the food, smells and colors of this time of year. I look forward to football season all year. I love sweaters and bonfires and crisp mornings. But it’s busy. I’m gonna be a room mother for Monkey Boy’s school. I’m picking up more writing work. I’m getting this house back onto a schedule. This is all good. I just didn’t quite get enough of the lazy days at the pool.

So save me a chair, I’ll see ya next summer.

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