In my book, summer is June, July, August. Terry will always tell me that I have it wrong. That summer doesn’t officially start until June 21 and ends September 22. Summer is my favorite season. I love long, hot, sunny days, and by June 1 the days have reached that point. Now, at the end of August, the days have shortened, the light has shifted, children are back in school, and the leaves are turning. As I turn the calendar page, I also turn the season page.
We spent this last summer weekend in San Mateo with our grandchildren. From Friday afternoon when we picked them up at school to Saturday evening when we left them ready for bed in pajamas, we packed as much fun into a couple of days as we could.
Ice cream cones, museum trip, school barbecue, shopping, out to dinner, craft making and even an afternoon digging in the dirt under the lemon tree.We had lots of fun and slept soundly each night.
I am sadly sentimental about the end of this summer. We had so many giggles, involved in so many activities, but also had the disaster of a burst appendix. Leeya has made an amazing recovery and has huge amounts of energy that just never stops. She has an aura of sophistication, too, that wasn’t there before. She continues to be confident and capable, able to do so much on her own. Judah has started preschool and is finding his way in a world outside of his home and neighborhood. He still cries out, “I need help,” when he can’t quite do what needs to be done. By next summer both of them will be so much more independent, definitely not needing grandma to do as much for them.
Another season ends in more ways than one.