There are people in this world who thrive on a schedule. They love order. Predictability sustains them. There is security in minutes counted and to do lists checked.
I’m not really one of these people.
Last Monday I returned to school. I didn’t prepare, but instead, I just jumped in — cold turkey, so to speak. Four days in and I’ve converted.
My kids (not the ones I spend the day in school with, but the ones who live in my house) don’t start school until next week. They are getting a transition period. Their sleep schedules have been stolen by the school year.
But their days still belong to summer.
They are living it up with Mimi and Papa — swimming and biking bumpy trails and adventures in the woods. Each afternoon they wrap their sweaty arms around my summer dresses and their muddy soles squash my bright-colored flats and the stories fly from their mouths, tumbling over one another. They are living summer.
At night the dirt swirls in the tub. I miss you, Mom. Each one of them, all four, have whispered these words to me this week. Perhaps they are afraid if said too loud, they will scare summer away.
I miss them too. I miss our unplanned moments. The let’s see where the day takes us. The don’t worry about the dishes because we can do them tomorrow. The adventure and surprise and the energy-drain that comes from a very good summer day that fills you up with joy and peace and happiness.
I don’t like our adventures being confined between 4:00 pm and 7:30 pm.
Andy always takes from work and spends the final day of summer break with the kids. They call it the Last Hurrah of Summer. It is today.
So while I’m following a schedule and checking off tasks and meeting for this and collaborating for that, they will be following the whim of summer. They will say Goodbye, summer.
I wish goodbyes didn’t hurt so much. Perhaps the Hello tomorrow brings will soothe my weary soul.