the end of summer

ever year summer flies by with faster velocity. i hold on feeling my body lift up into the air as it takes me on its whirlwind and i dangle with fists tight flapping around as it pulls me like long festive streamers on a car in a wedding party parade. while i feel the same inside, i am almost a year older from our last visit.

it reminds me when my Grandma once told me how she saw someone who had become so old and then she laughed, "i know i probably look old to everyone else, but its funny i don't feel old." jeff and becca have a theory that you stop growing at a certain age. your body continues to grow but inwardly you are still pretty much the same as when you turned 10, or 15, or 19, or 25. i don't know exactly what age i have stopped growing at. it's probably so young that i don't want to remember all the embarrassing things i did at that time but are unconsciously still trapped in. seasons are the friendly skies in this way of taking us in and out of the awkward moments in our life and continually dropping us off somewhere anew. just imagine if frequent flyer miles came with every age and yet they do in their own little way. God inspired creation to be endlessly transforming. in their sweetest grace, our Mother and Father are giving us another chance.

it reminds me of my brothers. jeff led the pack of three as the oldest child. he formed a habit of having us come together to form a unit when times were tough. this was powerful. our merciful King and Queen of Heaven protected us and bestowed upon us a magical gift. no matter what our circumstances were, we could find a way to make the best of them and create the life we desired. when we moved from Hawaii to Michigan people would always remark at how difficult it must have been. one of my loving caretakers became my Grandma. she provided solid stability in unpredictable settings. on our first year in a new state she would compliment the three of us for our "adaptability." she was encouraged by the way we jumped into a new life and did not shiver in hollow retrospect on our old life in prior schools. being so young i didn't really understand. i couldn't separate my perception from another's to realize how differently humans deal with situations.

from my experience with children, God has shown me how intrepid humanity is. perhaps it is because we carry a fraction of the potential of our maker. we bend. while it is difficult at first and there are tantrums along the way, gradually it happens. people adjust themselves to the new expected course of life. as a toddler, my niece likes to test this frequently. she is a habitual creature and reads pattern to a consistency she can roll with. if i shake things up a bit she either looks at me like i am crazy or starts to protest with shrieks that i am doing it all wrong. kiki! that's not the way we do it! we don't sit on the chair to read, we sit in the rocker! you forgot to comment on the kitty in the picture! when i watch baby einstein you let me drink milk, therefore i cannot watch baby einstein without it. to change a pattern takes us repeating the trauma all day for several days or weeks until finally she has changed. we can sit in the chair or the rocker to read. from moving along from sleeping with mom and dad to sleeping alone in a crib, drinking from a bottle to a sippy cup, crawling to walking, kids are meant to change. we call it development. part of growing up is learning how to adapt with new circumstances, skills, people, and settings. all of creation marks this progression of change and we echo it unison in the episodes of seasons.

this summer brought one of the last throngs of mass weddings from family and friends as i have entered into the twenties two by two series of life where many of my dearest sisters have left the flock to couple up with a certain someone in the male species. this summer brought crowds of visitors to brighten my days with fellowship, proper eye to eye understandings, and hugs for goodbyes rather than written salutations. this summer was an exit to life patterns as Bobby finished working and is beginning a new season of school. it brought new life into this world as two of my kindred spirits had little wonders of their own.

for me, this summer was the last of an entire season to be shared with my niece as her companion. how i will always cherish our days alone together going for walks, watching her go from being scared of the swings at the park to mimicking me pump my legs, eating corn on the cob together and laughing at our bites as we trade pieces and make sure every kernel is devoured, her first drawings on paper and the sidewalk, discovering summer wildlife and flowers like her touching her first caterpillar and picking wild strawberries, our mermaid time in the pool where she learned how to make the boat sound and splash water, our runs through the sprinklers turned on just below her height-its a little scary if the water is too high-, digging in the sand, and making lemonade stew for annie, fluffy, kitty, lucy and all of our friends to drink.

summer is the hardest season for me to part with because it is the only season i could live in year round and be invigorated by every moment of it. with all the fluster of endless sunlight, motion, and blooming expression in summer i find it hard to leave and enter back into a gradual countdown when autumn reminds me not to leave the house without an extra layer of warmth protection and then winner when my inner bear screams lethargically for hibernation and i ache for the restless burning summer nights to wake me up from my sloth life slumbers.


how i will miss passing along the green lined roads and canopies of bushy clothed summer trees. i love walking in summers evening air. most of all, i love the chance to swim in its waters. but all good things must come to an end and the weather calms its furious boil and settles into an autumn simmer. so to you summer night fairies....adieu my love! farwell dear friend! don't forget to visit me soon!

and to you mother of mine, thank you for your gift of for over-excitability. my thoughts sway to the pleasures of the next awakening season and after a brief pondering i am ready to zoom away into the next holiday treasure. this trick moves me along season to season without encumbersume regretful sorrow for the hastening change. a craving begins to stir within me for scarves and hot chai, fresh apple cider and warm apple pies, the cripsy days and loud trumpet blasts and red carpet rolling of autumn leaves...announcing all hail! winter is coming!