long live summer

The other day, I looked at the calendar and had a little weight settle on my chest. Two, and now only one week left of summer. I can feel it all start to gear up while I look apprehensively at the time we have left. I glanced back through my camera roll on my phone- it’s so funny how the days can feel documented in photos with short fractions of time, and I realized that I hadn’t captured it. There were a few, sure. But really, no giant photo dump for me to scroll through like I really wanted. So then the guilt crept in on top of the dread and I just felt awful. “I didn’t capture enough. This summer wasn’t enough.” I bemoaned to Jamin.

What I was really saying was that I wasn’t enough. I know I should take deep breaths. I am not my feelings. My feelings are just the waves, and I am the ocean. Or something. Just because they’re feelings doesn’t make them true. But it was hard to fight this one and not accept it as my truth.

With the kids getting older, the loss each season is palpable. I am to summers, as my toddlers were to my leg with separation anxiety when I would drop them off at their preschool for the first few times. You’ll have to pry summer out of my cold, dead fingers after you slowly unhinge each one multiple times. I’ll cry all the way to the door while you drag my flailing body away into the darkness.

I get that people are going to advertise all the things ahead of time and thus is the curse of being an influenceeeeerrrrrrrr, but when I open up my Insta in mid July to see jack-o-lanterns on porches, we’re not okay. Can’t we just be in the moment?

The older I get, the more I appreciate fall. I adore Halloween, for starters. I think you probably know this about me by now. But I really try to be in the moment while I have it. And the older I get, the more I realize that summer correlates to my children growing up. It always feels like a poignant marker in time for our fleeting lives. If I were to take away the seasons in between and look at how quickly things have changed from one summer to the next, I would hold on with everything I have. I would cling to those special moments and lost time together as a family. And you either get it or you don’t. I’m not focused solely on the hot weather. I’m relishing in these sentimental memories because it’s about so much more than that.

The basement has become overrun with college things. We sat around the table the other night and made some of our final summer wishes to enjoy. The backpacks have been purchased. This is it.

Motherhood brought many things but with it, summers. And the bittersweet side is a sobering, keen awareness that time really is slipping through my fingers.

Our oldest, Aiden, heads to college in just a few weeks. I’m trying so hard to soak it all up without making his impending departure my entire personality. It’s almost as if the pandemic chapter in his life {which affected each kid differently} delayed a few things, and everything hit us at once this summer with our oldest and lost time and catching up. So it’s been a lot all at once. Someone told me I’m grieving, as is normal for this stage. They’re right. I’m just relieved that we can acknowledge it. Talk about it. Every year, when the fireflies return, I feel a real sense of joy and anticipation. And every year, when those school buses start to roll by the house, a sense of loss.

I was in the kitchen the other day when he was eating his sandwich over the sink, as teenagers usually do. In between bites, he proclaimed out of nowhere, “This has been the best summer ever.” How quickly I’d forgotten, so busy judging myself by a material lack of video and photographs. So busy being frustrated by curfews and loss of sleep.

After my odd expression of frustration, Jamin gently reminded me, in the way that he often does, that the kids have had an amazing summer. Sure, we didn’t take twenty vacations and outings and didn’t document it all with a photography dump because we were in the moment.

But the kids have been living their best lives, and I was using the wrong unit of measurement.

Long family dinners that last past an hour, with deep conversations and laughter. Quiet afternoons together, retelling our favorite stories. The revolving door, and the reason we purchased this house in the first place, while kids enjoy the pool in our little sanctuary. Our longest streak with guests at our house this summer was nine nights, with zero breaks in between. We’re tired, but in the most satisfying way because our kids are thriving and happy. {Late nights with teenagers and early mornings with football practice may be the death of us, but we’re excited for all them.}

So here’s to the ice cream. The flowers in the front yard that bring the big, beautiful butterflies. {One day, I’m young and cool, and the next, I’m pointing out the variety of swallowtails in our front yard garden.} The long pool days, with freckled shoulders. And endless nights with a house full of teenagers that have stretched into a slower pace while we watch the stars above.

Cheers to what we have. Long live summer.