Summer House

In the summer, when the sun is shining, we blow through our home like the wind of another season.  Things are prioritized differently on blazing days and, even when we're summering through the confines of a terminal disease and a napping toddler, our days are full.  And so our house is a mess.
We pass through for meals, sometimes, moving the pancake plates out of the way for dinner.  We breeze by to change clothes, to repack purses and bags, to grab towels and suits or to throw on a skirt.  Our days fill with walks to the farmers market and bridal showers, ice cream with friends and splashes at the park, watching bears at the zoo and looking for bugs in the backyard.  We visit the house just long enough for a flurry of things to happen, but not long enough for any of it to be recovered.  We spend time at home when the moon hushes our happenings to sleep, often resting in sheets that have long ago been laundered.  On gloomy days we tend to want to remember what it feels like to sit on our couch rather than tidy late night sewing projects or sort piles of mail.  Wasting time in a way that's too enjoyable to consider wasted, we neglect some things so that others can be savored.

The air is crisp and requiring our attention are taco truck tours and tailgating parties, weekend weddings and tiny tot tumbling, apple orchards and pumpkin patches.  Sidewalk chalk on the path and shopping bags on the dining table can wait, because right now there's only extra time for things like laughter in the bathtub and hugs in the hammock.  At this point, I'm afraid the house isn't going to be picked up before it falls. 
JEB