“Let us dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in our hair…” Susan Polis Schutz, American poet
Most people don’t live their lives on an academic schedule. Most people don’t live in our house, either.
Here, from the moment my husband’s and daughters’ final days of school fall into sync until classes rev back up in late August, we function at a level that could best be described as “hub bub.” Shoes are just everywhere. Projects are just everywhere. An extra kid always seems to be where you least expect one — or two or three.
Such an atmosphere is not exactly conducive to writing. There’s only so many times a person of words can pop off her chair — because a fan on the second floor is making something vibrate in the basement, or the dog threw up, or someone needs something and can’t find it even though it’s practically waving a flag — without completely losing her train of thought. Or, her patience.
Now, where was I? Oh, yes. No, it really, really doesn’t make for easy writing, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Summer is our refresh button. It’s when we reconnect and strengthen our family bonds. It’s when we take long walks, eat lunch at the park, discover black bears are roaming the church camp grounds, and watch absolutely idiotic movies at the library.
It’s when we go to new places, get stung by fire ants, drive golf carts, eat zucchini fries and ketchup out of paper trays, and drink Coke out of frosty bottles that we’ll re-use all winter long just to make us remember a certain diner.
It’s when we try weird things like candying flowers and putting them on top of a cake, making dandelion jelly, painting a mural on a bedroom wall or mastering Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata on the piano.
We’re trying to learn how to moonwalk this summer. So far, no good. But, we’re trying. And, we’re together. That’s somehow good enough.