Sweet Swift Summer

When you're young, the calendar moves in semesters, loosely connected to seasons. The semesters are indexed by tests, the seasons by temperature. I was so fascinated by this in college I wrote and designed a short book/journal to capture this evolution. When you evolve out of the pattern of these semesters or seasons...you wait on school zones and traffic congestion to cue you to a looming change. Ahem, school is back in session.

I can no longer enjoy a leisure commute to work with a fraction of the traffic. Now lumbering school buses slow down already slow back roads. I can't call my mom in route to hear what musings she has about her days activities, she's also back in school.

So while I openly scowled at the aimless youth waiting for the school bus on Monday morning, and Facebooked how horrible the commute was...which still baffles me...I redirected my focus to seize summer. Sure, it's the hottest on record and my work is a meat locker, but it shouldn't keep me from realizing we've probably got just two more short months before we enter the greatest - and painfully shortest - season of all: Fall.

Tonight, after dinner, we headed to the pool. Joining many other families enjoying the same just-slightly-cooler-than-the-air water the kids showed off their great aquatic skills from their lessons from Dad. Roland and Brian had perfected some cannon ball tricks over foam noodles, only to be scolded by the life guard, "No running." Aria is finally leaping out, not just off, the side of the pool. Roland can jump 6 feet OFF the side - which crazy when you consider that last summer he was Velcro to you in the water.

I floated on my back amidst the sounds of summer water games, starring up into a beautiful sky filled with clouds the shape and color of carnival cotton candy. Aria sang on my shoulder while we danced in the water to a fantastic imaginary concerto. Brian showed off a motorcycle made of water noodles. Roland declared he didn't need the life jacket and jumped 50 times off the edge and swam back - on his own - to the side. We rode home - in our customary spot in the trunk of the Highlander - at 8:15.

I know kids should be asleep at 8:15, but something about summer and the extra light of the day just makes it impossible. Soon, we'll be driving home in the dark, stunned by the lack of light. I have a loose bucket list of summer activities I think we should attempt, and so far so good, but we've got a few more we've just got to do. Stay tunned.