Summer came to an end at approximately five pm on Sunday night.
At five pm on Sunday night, I was sauteeing squash ribbons (that four out of four children would not eat) and flipping cheese quesadillas (that two out of four children would not eat) while hollering at the boys to clean their room and listening to the firstborn debate first-day-of-school outfits.
I was mentally prepping school lunches, signing an emergency-contact form for the oldest, and telling the youngest that now was not a good time for playing in the sink.
The youngest threw herself across the floor while I two-stepped toward the dinner plates.
And there, at utter loose ends in my kitchen, is when I knew summer was over.
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Summer may be chaotic and intense, but in summer there is less pressure to chase down every last loose end.
Did we eat popcorn for dinner instead of vegetables? Well, it’s summer. Tomorrow we shall raid the garden.
Did the five-year-old hop into bed with dirty feet? Well, maybe we’ll wash off with a visit to the creek tomorrow.
In Fall, we remember the calendar and the budget and the email inbox.
In Fall, the overgrown garden looks sad rather than abundant. In Fall, the baby’s hair is plastered to her forehead with applesauce instead of sweet baby sweat.
In Summer, loose ends twine like pea vines on lattice. They tempt us to stay up past our bedtimes. They draw us on to look deeply at sunsets and the freckles on our loved one’s nose.
In Fall, loose ends scatter themselves like beads from a broken necklace. We scramble and cry, but we know we will never find them all. We will never manage to gather the details. We will fail to live up to at least a few of our responsibilities.
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I long for my own little chore chart. With three neat rows and a gold star for each grid.
But there are no gold stars waiting for me at the end of my email inbox. No gold stars when I have packed three healthy, nut-free, school-approved snacks.
So here is a reminder – for me, for you – to hold on to summer’s lessons.
Let us remember where the gold stars live.
They live in sunsets and freckles.
They live at the ends of every loose strand of a young girl’s hair.
They shine in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome them.
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oh my.
this is beautiful. beautiful. beautiful.
thank you.
Yes, this is where I’m living! Thank you for the reminder, friend.
You my friend are a gold star writer.
How lovely and true!! I so enjoy your writing please add me to your list if fans so I can see fheore often! Thanks!!
Welcome, Deborah! So glad you found me. There’s a little box at the very bottom of my website just ready and waiting for your email address. I’m so glad you are eager for more.
Oh, you’ve captured the transition so perfectly Christie. Change is both heart wrenching and needed. And in my world its as if God wiped the chalkboard clean of back-to-school antics and stress and we’re all waiting for Him to write on it once again, sleepy from being delayed so long now. Love to you this day as you start a new school year and a new beginning.
A clean slate – such a beautiful (but somewhat terrifying!) condition. Praying for peace and rest in the waiting, Shelly.
Oh, honey – you scatter gold stars everywhere you put your feet — or your fingers. Thank you, thank you.
*Blush* Thank you, dear Diana, thank you.
Just what I was feeling…. thank you for capturing this bittersweet transition so well! and so glad that I too make food that no one else will eat…
Ha! Yes, you’re not alone in that, Ann.
Oh man. I need this reminder to hold onto the beauty of summer as we ramp up into what promises to be a very busy fall. Thank you for this delightful word, Christie.
At 67-years-old of course I no longer experience this transition, but your vivid description did remind me of countless summers of yesteryear. I’m thankful my memory is still good enough to recall them, and your prompting has helped me to do just that. May God continue to bless you Christie . . .