It’s official. Nearly. These final two days of summer, technically speaking. Soak it in. Stop and take a deep breath. It’s almost over for the entire year. These precious months I waited for so impatiently when my fingers were cold and the sky was dark. And fresh raspberries seemed eons away.
As always, I thought I would accomplish so much more theses past few months. Really, it’s all just a blur of moments and emotions.
I hoped my garden might look, well, flowerier. And boast fewer weeds. I had hoped for more days spent at the river, comfortably reclined in a lawn chair while Reed flung sand all about and counted tadpoles. He counts so well now, and my heart warms every time I hear his tiny voice utter “…eight, nine, ten, eleventeen…” from the confines of his messy bedroom.
I thought I might have more of a Updated Plan for my life by now. Where am I heading? To what end? Things I had worked out for myself in my 20s, and, for whatever reason, feel compelled to reassess all these years later. Does that ever end? Or are we constantly driven to re-envision the trajectory of our short lives amidst the chaos of daily living? And how does one thinking clearly enough to have a single, coherent thought when everything gets all muddled up with chores, parenting, and paying bills?
Despite it all, we had so many glorious moments this summer. Camping trips. Pool splashing. Hose squirting. That first ripe red tomato. Endless hours of sunshine warming my soul. Iced tea sweetened just so with honey, chilled to perfection. The hysterical two-year-old roar of laughter, amused by tickles or the sound of silly words. Tiny bare feet exploring the (weedy) garden, desperate for an opportunity to cut zinnias with adult scissors despite motherly admonitions to the contrary.
And the knitting. Oh, the knitting. I cannot let myself forget those stolen moments knitting in the shade, on the deck or by the pool. In the fresh air and bright sunlight. This is why I love summer knitting. It’s just sunnier.
Truly it is a bittersweet goodbye. Like all knitters, there is that tiny bit of me that welcomes fall. The days still perfectly warm. Blips of color appearing on the mountainsides and neighborhood orchards. Crisp mornings. A different kind of vigor finds its way to my stitches, and I try not to fret about all the holiday knitting I have not quite begun.
With all endings comes a new beginning.