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.
The elusive speedy nature
of each season, has me either lamenting or rejoicing.
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
