It has been close to a decade (wow. so, so close.) since I have been in any kind of school. And one of the most difficult things to get used to in moving on to more adultish things- I was telling David’s sister this the other night – has been the absence of the rhythm school brings to a year.
Everything broken up evenly and easily into blocks of time. And each with its own – not just weather or activity, though of course, there are those things too – but also its own emotional palette.
Fall and anticipation and everything starting again. New shoes, new backpacks, and whose classroom are you going to be in? Then winter that’s over in a rush and all of a sudden, long, loping spring when routines are settled and everything seems to finally fit. You can feel it. In your shoulders.
And there’s summer.
We went on some vacations, but mostly we went swimming.
Lazing around in pajamas until late in the morning. Sitting under an air-conditioning vent with my bare feet on the wall and reading, reading, reading. Staying outside later than seemed possible. Til 7. Til 8. Til how is it almost 9 and the sun hasn’t set?
That’s my favorite time: Not day still, but still not night.
Seasons. I know they’re still happening, but now the edges blur. Months that run right into each other. Too many Tuesdays that feel like they ought to be Fridays.
I want Alice to have summers.
This evening, we went to a Music in the Park concert. A band called The Swingaires was playing “I Get a Kick Our of You” as I pushed Alice’s stroller onto the grass. There were strollers everywhere. And folding chairs and blankets. I put ours down under a tree, and had just started giving Alice her cereal when David found us. Still in his tie. Don’t know how fast he had to drive to make it there from work, but I am glad he did.