The things we didn't get done. The wasps. The futility of weeding. The anxiety rises about new schools and new classes. Far. Too. Much. Canning. Back to school shopping. Last minute appointments. Aching for peace and quiet. Not wanting to wish the summer away. The days grow perceptibly shorter. The pool is cold and strewn with fallen leaves.
I've never been exactly fond of the end of August and the beginning of September. It's melancholy and crazy-busy at the same time. My different and distinct roles pull me in different directions at the same time. We have to be prepared to hit the ground running once school starts. It reminds me of going from a meandering sideroad onto an extremely short on-ramp to an 8-lane highway.
It's been a good summer, if a different one. Dave worked all summer, for the first time in our marriage, and I felt his absence in a variety of ways: chiefly, in the lack of time to myself and the lack of progress on household tasks. We didn't go to Quebec and we missed it, but we had a lovely time in New York. That lovely time feels like a patch of clear blue sky or a touchstone of goodness. We have a puppy now - and that has changed our routines and considerations a great deal.
The summer holidays are ending with heat and humidity - and around here, emotions are flaring too. One is developing aches and pains, while another was in tears and still another is louder than usual and a bit goofy. We had eye doctor appointments at 9:30 this morning -- it was a kind of dry run for school and it was good we had the practice. We needed it.
But September brings new beginnings too: new schools, new work, new routines, new lessons, new possibilities. Fresh pencils. Shiny shoes. Tart crisp apples. Sweaters and fireplaces. Cozy sheets at night. Coming home to supper together. The comfort of routines.
How is it that I hate the end, and love the new start, all at the same time?