This morning at work (well, here at work) I was lamenting the fact that I am inside on a beautiful, sunny afternoon and how tired I am of working every single day. Long gone are the lazy days with my kids, the spontaneous runs to the store, to meet a friend for lunch or to just pick up and drive them to the beach for the day. Now every thought, idea, even trip to the market must be planned and organized in order to fit it all in. I always worked, mind you, but only at a part time level once I had my kids. So, as I complain and sit here staring out the window at the rays of the sun shining through the leaves of the trees, lighting them up to the brightest shade of green I’ve seen since last summer, I realised that in two weeks school lets out and I am once again a part-timer.
Soon I will have my kids back. Soon we will get down to our “real” time. Most people think of the school year as their real time and summer as their vacation, not me. Summer is when my kids are home, when we get to know each other again, when we can just sit and be. Together. When we have lunch outside on a blanket and talk about the things that we think and the things that we’d like to achieve and the things that just plain make us laugh. It's bike rides and walks in the creek and fireflies in a jar and sun warming your wet skin and picnics and popsicles and love. And us.
My brain is suddenly buzzing with the possibilities and whispering to me to write a list of them so that not a single one is forgotten and all are accomplished with delight, so that throughout the long school year next year we have a treasure trove of memories to push us through until next summer when it’s our real time once again.
