Summer, Again

Summer. It is grand and showy and unabashedly itself. It is slow and unapologetic. Generous. Nourishing. Sweaty. Wild. Crass….

I am nostalgic for it already. It seems to take a piece of childhood with it each time it ends.

I know I can look forward to this season again next year, but it will never be this season again. Not with the same wet footprints and small whines. Everyone has a bigger backpack. Of course, they can carry so much more now. I showed them how. They showed me how. I willed their strength into existence. And somehow, it breaks me at the same time. Their tiny triumphs and independence. Missing them is sometimes too much for me and often I worry: am I too soft?

Maybe I’m just soft enough though, you know? You know.