The Final Countdown

It's going to be a long week. School starts September 1st; between now and then young minds will spend countless hours doing nothing. There seems to be too much time on the calendar between the end of summer activities and the first night of homework. In my case, the end of summer camp should be followed by 1 week of lazy television watching, 1 trip to the mall for sneakers and 1 haircut (which in our house happens on the back deck with a number 2 trimmer). Every family has their own summer plan; vacation, beach, pool, day camp, overnight camp, tennis camp, circus camp, but by now most of us are done. Done with sunscreen and wet towels, done with cookouts and mosquito bites and (back to my world), done coming home from work to find your child in the same clothes, in the same place you left them in the morning. I want to go to Staples, sharpen the pencils and finally have the house to myself again at 7:10 AM.

Starting in early June, I'm doing a similar countdown to the end of "school nights." I'm ready to let go of the schedule; tired of monitoring bedtime, morning wake-up and getting dinner on the table at 6:30 PM. Each school year takes its toll and summer is the gift we get for making it through. I have long admitted to suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), self-diagnosed and a good rationalization for visiting the tanning salon (I am well aware that this is bad for me, duly added to my list of vices). I have no idea if this is clinical, but when the days get shorter and darker and colder, I get crankier and sleepier and sadder. On frigid January days my bed has a magnetic force pulling me under the covers long before bedtime. Layers of fleece are no match for my inner chill, due in part to Jeffrey’s insistence that the thermostat be set at “arctic.” (A middle of the night trip to the bathroom requires a 5-minute mental pep talk and a sudden interest in Depends). And yet I survive year after year until the days get longer and my insides thaw. I continue to changeover my closet at the first coatless day and refuse to resurrect the wool despite the cruel tricks of early spring. April vacation means May is just around the corner and the finish line to summer is clearly in view. The constant of New England life, the next season always in the chute ready to change the scenery, the temperature and the mood.

So here we are again, soon backpacks will come out of hiding and beach bags will return to the closet. Too much time on the couch will be replaced with not enough time for anything. Before long a Sunday will come that requires a sweater and these last days of summer will be a distant memory. Perhaps this long week needs a fresh perspective, nothing wrong with a few more late nights and lazy days. I resolve to stop counting how many more days until school starts and enjoy the summer ones we have left.

New attitude in place, I left for work. Backing out of the driveway I take a second to enjoy the view. The grass is green and full, the impatience is grazing the base of the mailbox in full pink and purple bloom, the sky is bright blue and the air is dry. On second thought, maybe this week isn’t long enough?