We unlearn desire. Quietly, over time, we succumb to the dependable script of the expected life and become masters of the middle way ... after a while we no longer even notice the pathways off to the side ... John O'Donohue (Beauty)
“The summer is almost over,” my 91 year old mother declares with an all-knowing on our weekly Sunday phone call. I already know her next line: “Before you know it, it's going to snow. It will be Christmas.”
A writing course occupied my spring and when I hit Submit for my final paper on June 30, I also hit Break Free for the summer, and I wondered if I would ever write anything again. And here my mother reminds me of the truth: Summer is Short.
Canadians know its brevity. The memory of last September's early Alberta snow verified my mother's words. I want to minimize my computer indoor time, this is the season I like to travel some of the pathways off to the side.
For the sake of the course, I had put off my summer and now it felt as though my days were numbered.
Oh the summertime blues, the writing blues, the life time blues ... What is the cure? The song of my day suggests “there ain't no cure for the summertime blues.” Like life, it comes it goes ... beauty, flowers, illness and departure. It feels like the river's current, as it moves quickly towards a final destiny.
My overseas grandchildren are visiting. I have been anticipating this precious time, for months, and yet today, my blog post date, that moment-in-the-sun will have passed, I take them to the airport.
So what will I do now that the summer is almost over? I plan to enjoy every remaining moment as much as I can. It began with cleaning off my patio July 1, setting up the deck water fountain, planting the flowers I got on the end of the season sale. I want to enjoy the richness of the season with those that cross my path. I want to smell the flowers, I want to ride my bicycle. I want to show my grandchildren the pathways in the woods. Above all else, I want to practice gratitude and make the most of each day.
I put most of my writing books away.
I want to build good memories that will warm those cold winter days. I will jot down notes in my ideas notebook, and I hope to write a poem with my granddaughter.
Isn't it wonderful that each of us has our own write response to the brevity of summer.
There is only one summer of 2015,
Below a black squirrel hops across the traffic filled street, only mindful that he needs to live in this summer moment, oblivious to the cars that will soon sweep his path ... he pauses in the middle of the street, looks up, I think he winks at me and scurries to his destination.
My huge pot of recently planted petunias smile at me in shades of lavender.
Life like summer is brief, there are no guarantees.
Gratitude precedes the joy ... The thunder heads will roll in, we had a thunderstorm on Thursday, but for this moment, this brief spell, I want to Be in The Beauty, the beauty of a summer morning ripe with anticipation, with grandchildren waiting for an adventure with grandma, and “Cachinos” (cappuccinos) on the deck.
Jocelyn is the author of Who is Talking out of My Head.
She also blogs at: http://whoistalking.wordpress.com