School begins again in just two weeks. Rather than speak of how quickly the summer has gone by, or to rail against those "Back to School" television commercials, my usual tendency is to hush anyone's chatter which infringes upon my final fourteen days of vacation time. I've had a wonderful eight weeks off thus far and I still have two more. Summer isn't over yet.
Although I'd like to say I'm still securely in "summer mode", admittedly, this is the time of year when I begin to make a lot of promises to myself. As summer winds down and my thoughts begin to turn towards teaching school, it's a more powerful point in the year than New Year's Eve. If my husband is right in saying that I do get "a little crazy" in my desire to savor each final day of summer vacation, it's because I'm anticipating the way I often allow teaching to consume me from September to June. Once the school year begins, my thoughts center around my students--their reading, their writing, and most importantly, their well being. I work to get to know them, to see what makes each of them tick, and I experiment with the best way to reach, to motivate, to influence. Sure, it's the work of any good teacher, however what gets threatened are the moments of pure impulsivity in my personal life that I so enjoy in the weeks of summer. What I sometimes let go of are the promises I make to myself each August. The ones that begin with the phrase, "Just because school is starting doesn't mean I can't...."
Yesterday, knowing it was the "two week" mark, I jumped out of bed, went downstairs to find my husband, and said, "Let's go kayaking at Scarborough Marsh!" I knew it was something he had spoken of wanting to do in previous years and it was an adventure he had mentioned to me again this summer, yet we hadn't made it there thus far. It was almost 70 degrees, the sun was shining, and there were no showers in the forecast. Eric accepted the invite, but a short 20 minutes later he came into the kitchen where I was fixing breakfast and told me he didn't feel like going today. I didn't hesitate. I gave him a quick rationale of why the day was perfect for such an adventure and I reminded him he could have the following day at home without any of my suggestions that we go do something. At that, he relented. Within the hour we were on our way, having hooked up the kayaks to the top of our van. We had a glorious time kayaking the marsh waters, watching the sandpipers and the egrets. Eric had packed a picnic lunch and we shared that on our drive home, having left in time to take our son to his first pre-season soccer practice. "Are you glad I pushed you to come today?" I asked. "Yes", he said. And he meant it.
Earlier in the day, in between breakfast and loading up the kayaks, I'd gone upstairs to take a shower. When I didn't find any bars of soap, I took a deep breath and grabbed a beautifully wrapped gift soap which had been on my dresser bureau for almost a year.
Last September, I'd placed the big bar of soap in my suitcase. I was at my parents' home for the last time. My siblings and I were cleaning their house and clearing it of their possessions. I'd stumbled across this bar of soap and had remembered purchasing it for my Mom for Christmas several years earlier. I remember telling her how it smelled of cranberries and how luxurious it seemed to me. She had smiled and agreed that it had a beautiful smell and she commented on how nicely it was wrapped in red paper with a little jewel on top. Seeing the bar of soap on my Mom's dresser made me smile at the memory of our many Christmas holidays together. It also made me a little sad to think that she had never opened it up to use it. I took the soap and brought it home with me and it has been on my own dresser since.
Maybe it was the awareness of how quickly time passes and a little sadness over the thought of another summer coming to an end. Maybe I was thinking of the visit to my Mom just the day before. But suddenly I knew the time was right. I wanted to use that bar of soap. I was done with it simply existing on my bureau. I unwrapped it and took it to the shower. I laughed when halfway through my shower, the hot water cut out. Unaware I was in the shower, my son had begun his own shower in the bathroom next to mine. I giggled as I washed off Mom's luxurious cranberry smelling soap in the cool trickling stream of water now coming from my own shower and I deemed the timing of this all to be perfect.
A calendar can tell us life is about to change, our days are about to slow down or get busier, but it is not the only measure of the way life works. Sometimes we are given the gift of a beautiful day which pushes us out the door--to meet new children and to support them in their young lives, or to adventure to new places and new adventures, to see the world from fresh perspectives, above or below the tops of the marsh. And sometimes it's time to again remember the love of the people who supported us in our own lives and to open up gifts we've shared with one another, and to use those gifts with joy and appreciation when the day seems right. Because we never can know for sure when it will be the last day spent with one another or the day when the outside temps may be warm but the shower water will suddenly turn cold.
Two weeks from today I'll head back to school for another year with my teens. I've got some preparation to do, of course, but it's going to be a good year; I can feel it. Still, I hope the next two weeks of summer vacation bring many more moments of happiness and in-the-moment adventures. I'll plan some days and see where the rest take me. Tonight will be an evening of beauty pampering and shopping with my daughter, Emma. I'm looking forward to seeing my friend Darcy who will do our hair and then taking a trip to the mall where we'll get pedicures and explore our favorite stores. But first, I'll take a little time to enjoying the sun out here on my back deck this afternoon. My pup is happy that I'm outside with her and there's an array of beautiful birds flying above me in the tree tops. I think I'll post this to my blog, open up my Kindle, and read for a little bit. And then? I'm going to tell everyone not to turn on any hot water so I can head upstairs to take a shower with that luxurious bar of cranberry soap.
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