growing, going, gone

The shadows slant differently at the end of an August day, marking the second half of the season.  The boys don’t notice.  They’re still busy acting like the sun rises and offers a smorgasbord, like the sun sets out a feast as it falls.  They eat it up, like it’s one big buffet, the ice cream and the dirt and the watermelon and the bird droppings and the bugs.  I sense it though, the relief and the regret, summer’s almost over.
We squeezed a lot in -- just last week we visited the zoo and the pool, the food truck festival and the topiary garden, a neighbors' backyard happy hour and three outdoor meals with family.  But there are so many things left to do on the list, parks and caves and museums and fountains.  The season, full of days I recognize as memories even as they’re happening, feels as fleetingly precious as the boys' one and four year old selves.
It also feels crushingly sad, in ways I can't even explain to myself.  School started last week, and I found myself wishing we had reason to attend the ice cream social, to meet the teacher, wishing I had a little hand to hold, and to let go.  Another milestone I must carefully manage my imagination around lest I completely lose my mind.

1 comment:

Tiff said...

I am god you re able to go those thoughts but somehow bring yourself back.

P.s. can I please have your boys?? They re perfection.