There’s something magical about summertime.
It’s not just the heat of the day giving way to cooler nights – if you’re lucky. It’s not just playing outside, going to the beach, or staying up late – if you’re lucky. And it’s not just the variety of fruits and vegetables turning your plate into a rainbow of flavors and colors.
There’s something else.
Even at work, the pace slows down. At home, the kids “bathe” in their swimming pool. There’s a sense of taking a time out, a pause before school starts in the fall, the holidays avalanche, and the rain sends us scrambling inside.
My kids are no different. I look at their days and feel a curious mix of envy and joy.
They spend their days running through sprinklers, hiding in playhouses, building towers of blocks, painting outside, splashing in the pool, and eating hot dogs while their swimsuits dry on their bodies. They come home at night, their cheeks rosy in spite of the massive amounts of sun block put on them, their eyes drooping from exhaustion, the mouths speaking a hundred miles an hour while they fill me in.
I take off my not-quite-comfortable shoes and unzip my oh-yeah-I-shouldn’t-have-eaten-that-ice-cream-cake pants. I pull on a pair of shorts and let my legs breathe for the first time all day. I roll my shoulders back and stretch my neck side to side, pondering dinner.
And I remember when summer days were long and lazy. When my biggest concern was if I was going to gather enough loose change to gain entrance to the pool. And I feel a twinge of envy.
And joy that my children will have similar memories.