I don’t feel like anyone misses a season quite like summer. Maybe I’m wrong and there are plenty of people out there fantasizing about the demise of cicadas and sticky armpits the way I used to dream about burning homework folders and summer reading assignments with whimsical drawings of watermelons on the last day of school.
I remember the weekend that started it all this year. The scar I got from skateboarding in Eureka last summer wasn’t dark yet and Basia and Nicole, two of my college roommates, had come down from the Bay Area for a girls’ weekend at my parents’ house. Nicole and I were both pregnant and trying to strategize against our almost two year olds. It was a far cry from the parties we’d had at my parents’ house in college; sneaking keg-beer to my underage sisters through the doggie door in the guest bathroom. This time it was only Sprout and Will trashing the house. School had just let out, the fog of May and the grey of early June were beginning to lift–there was so much ahead.
Of course, navigating beach parking lots, sharing sand toys and learning that they mean coconut cream not almond milk in the fancy popsicle recipes is a lot less daunting than learning to be a mom of two. But here we are, at a beginning again.
I want to remember all this summer was to me and to Sprout and Scott since I know Sprout (and probably Scott) won’t. I want to remember how she called for me endlessly in the mornings from her loft, like an alarm clock unequipped with a snooze button and how I’ve never been happier to get up. I want to remember what it felt like to say goodbye to her for a weekend and then to have her come back into my arms, checking my face (and chest) to make sure it was the same. How she called the baby her “scissor” and how after a shower one morning, I came out to her sitting in the Rock and Play singing and batting at the mobile just like she did her first summer. I want to remember how she’d ask if I was happy, how she’d check my teeth and wash my legs in the shower. I want to remember the way her head fit in the crook of my neck, the way her curls came back even after being combed, the way the carseat became our biggest battle, the damp underwear in small piles on top of the washer, the way she said Mommy and Daddy like a song lyric.
We can’t know what’s headed for us in this new seasons except for what’s always headed for us-pain and love.
Thanks for being with me through all of these sappy posts where I casually mention child birth and personal milestones. I have redesigned this space so that hopefully it is clear how much I value it and all of you who make time to visit here.
Here’s to getting drunk in a few weeks…off of sleep deprivation and baby kisses. Here’s to summer…and all the seasons ahead!