(Part 1 can be found here)
Well THAT was fast.
You blew in here three months ago in the bright eyes of my kids. You brought many high expectations with you -- some of them we exceeded, others we missed by a mile. We had some togetherness that ended in rollicking good laughs, and we had some togetherness that ended in imaginary lines being drawn the backseat. We saw an ocean, a canyon and a wizard. Your humid, healthy air fertilized both my hydrangea and my twelve year old -- both of them seemed to grow a foot.
And now you’re gone, tiptoeing away quietly in the school-supply section. Stocked to the brim with enough Elmer’s glue to coat a small nation, I guess we crowded you out.
You’ll be missed. We have consumed our weight in popsicles, and our hair still has that summery-blonde streaking that will surely not make it to October. We’re still enjoying your tomatoes. We’ll miss the long breakfasts and the spontaneous trips to the movies.
We’re mostly ready for the structure of autumn. There are locker combinations to learn and sweatshirts to haul out of storage. We’re all trying to remember how to be cheerful at 7 a.m., and I’m confident we’ll get there -- possibly by April. We’re fortified with enough sunshine to make the multiplication tables seem a little less daunting. We’re starting this school year with some good memories and some loud laughs. I’m thankful to you for that.
We’re glad you came, old friend, and we look forward to your return in May. Look for us in the car line on the last day of school -- we’ll be the family with the beach towels in the backseat, loaded up and ready to go.