I’ve been meaning to capture this one moment for weeks. It was one of those moments that I just want to hold onto and preserve. I want to look back on it or find it along my way to someplace else, and remember. And even though it was weeks ago and the some of the details have faded under the blazing summer sun, my heart has been aching to see it.
It was a Saturday morning. The day after my girl’s last day of school. And my heart was all in a tangle. In part, the raw emotions that came with the end of such a big school year full of so much growth and beauty and so many very important firsts were still bubbling above the surface. And, in part, there was the thrill of summer. The first hours of a new, untouched summer vacation. And even though I knew that I’d be back at work on Monday and she’d be back at the same school in a week to start a couple of months of summer camp, I allowed us both to feel that buzz. Sometimes you just have to feel the buzz.
So, high on summer and emotion, we went for a walk. We finished breakfast and with the littles still snug in pajamas, we walked. We walked all the way to the rose garden that is not really that far away but still requires some bravery with little legs and little tummies and, sometimes, devolves into whines and cries before we can even see the first sign of blooms peeking around the bend.
But not this morning. Not a single whine. Not a single cry. We walked and chatted about birthday parties and puppies and probably bugs and flowers too. See, the details, they are faded. But it was lovely. We were happy and conversation just flowed.
And we, quite literally, stopped to smell the roses.
And the sky was cloudy, the sun struggling to break through. And, normally, that would have ruined it for me right there. Summer buzz must be sunlit, I would say. But not this morning. We were lit from within. And yes, that sounds super cheesy but I’m a big fan of cheese, especially when it’s real.
And it was perfect. It was one of those pure mama-moments. Baby in a stroller, little girl walking along side, sometimes holding on, both in pajamas, chatting and happy and walking and just being.
And, this time, I didn’t push it. I didn’t try to make it last longer than it should and insist that we enjoy the walk back home. That would have ruined it for sure. We’d have found those whines and cries lining our path back home like breadcrumbs. So I called M and he drove to pick us up and brought a waffle for our girl.
That is how our summer began.
And since then, it has been hot and rocky with rough patches that scratch and burn. And though it breaks my heart to admit it, I’m even starting to look forward to fall.
But that’s the beauty of memory and writing things down. Because when I look back on the summer of 2013 next year, or the year after, or so many years from now, I’ll remember that walk. And I’ll remember the other good moments. And I’ll think to myself, wow, that was an amazing summer.
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