Summertime

It's been a long time since I've experienced a true "summertime" season like I did when I was a kid. Back then, when my days and seasons were defined by school schedules, there was always the anticipation of summer that started sometime after Mother's Day. That was usually a signal that there were only a couple of weeks of school left and everyone was gripped with excitement when they walked into the neighborhood discount store (Winn's or TG&Y in my case) and saw inflatable swimming pools, swim suits, sunglasses, and "summer" toys and games--soap bubbles, water guns, pool toys, and snow cone makers. They all signaled that the school year was coming to an end and a seemingly endless summer awaited us!

Back then, things were at a slower pace. I don't recall many of my friends being involved in organized sports or activities that regulated their days. Sundays were the only days when we had something scheduled (church and Sunday school) and, during the week, we were only ruled by mealtimes. Breakfast and chores had to be finished before we could leave the house; lunch was usually a sandwich, sometimes hastily eaten at home or at a friend's house, so we could get back to whatever we were doing; and dinnertime was signaled by everyone's dad pulling into the driveway after work. That meant we had to get home, wash up, and eat, knowing we would have a few more hours of play after dinner before the streetlights came on.

Even during the years I was raising kids and homeschooling, there was still a clear delineation between summer and the rest of the school year--namely, no school! But now that we are at the point where the kids have outgrown school and before there are grandkids whose schedules include school, summer had taken on a different meaning. Perhaps it's because summer no longer means long, lazy unplanned days, where anything could happen or nothing at all. Now every day, all year long, work schedules keep us from a lot of spontaneity. Vacation trips must be planned, time off requested, and all the work our parents did--packing, making reservations, and all the attendant tasks--suddenly make us realize why we felt so carefree! We used to just get in the car and go! 

But summertime also is marked by the simple things that we suddenly realize we had missed during the winter. The grill is used much more frequently than in the colder months (though we occasionally get the hankering for barbecue chicken during snowstorms); we have more time for sitting on the deck with a cup of coffee in the mornings or a cold beverage in the evenings; flip-flops, tank tops, and shorts take the place of warm socks, sweaters, and jeans. In some ways, though it's far more subtle than when we were kids, we still get that carefree feeling of time stretching before us and only occasional glances at the calendar remind us that these days won't last forever. 

So pour another glass of lemonade, put your shades on, and kick back in a lawn chair. Labor Day is still seven weeks away!

Enjoy every day!