Where will we be…when the summer’s gone?
That Door’s song always gets stuck in my head around this time of year, even if in Texas we still have another 3 months of 90 degree weather.
I finally obtained a perfect tan, but it’ll be gone by the end of August. I played house husband for two months, as I did last summer and the summer before that, and before that. I feel like as soon as we get a routine down the summer ends and the work routine has to start over.
My son and I swam everyday. We walked to the pool through the neighborhood passing the same houses. Past the house with the immaculate lawn were the owner was always outside smoking. Past the dead jerky-ed squirrel that lay in the road at the second intersection, by the house with the picture window where either a 3 foot Barbie or a three foot Stormtrooper peered out at us. We saw the same people at the pool: the scowling lady with the two annoying kids; the 6 foot blonde with the newborn who pulled out her boob to breastfeed every 15 minutes; the effeminate dad with the three daughters...among others.
In a week, my son will start kindergarten, but playdates and school events have already started. I met some other parents at a school playdate and I mentioned I was a teacher. One parent asked me if I had the summer off, but the way he worded it, it was as if he’d offended a teacher before assuming all teachers have summers off. They do, we do, despite what Facebook post you’ve read. But we have plenty of options to fill our time when we are ‘off’, if we choose. It’s the administrators that do all the work during the summer...
Any extra teacher work or summer school would have just paid for daycare so it really wasn’t worth it. When I told people I would be spending the summer with my kids, they all said the same thing: “Aww, isn’t that nice!” Is it? Most of them were older with kids in high school or college. Maybe I’m not appreciating the time I have with my kids now: the break downs, tantrums, cooking meals, Disney songs getting stuck in my head; I haven’t slept in past 7:30 in 5 years, even when I’m away.
The end of this summer feels different though. I’ll be starting a new position at the same high school, my daughter is an otherwise ‘normal’ 2 year old, despite the 6 inch scar on her chest. My dad is gone, his pain is over. The past two years have sucked. I can’t think of a more eloquent way of putting it: They fucking sucked.
The end of summer always implies the end of good times, the end of agreeable weather, bounty and harvest. Some people dread the end of the summer, mostly teachers and students because they’ve been ‘off’ and have to get back to work. I’m not dreading it. A little disappointed maybe that I didn’t get to do all the things I thought I would, but that’s ok. I did get to spend time with my kids, for better or worse. It’ll be the summers I remember with them, watching them grow and play, even if all our moods were precarious.
I’m over the past two years. I have to be, otherwise I’d be insane. Looking back it’s all a blur of veiled or aborted emotions. Long days and early nights I can’t believe I pulled through. My health has improved, not sure about my temperament, but I think in time that may repair and resolidify.
I feel like I can finally take myself off autopilot and grab hold of the rudder. I have an inkling of what it means to ‘get a hold of your life’, even if mine wasn’t completely out of control. I’m actually looking forward to this year, and optimism is a rare thing for me. I’m a little gun shy though, hoping the bottom doesn’t fall out, but that’s just the pessimist in me. I’m used to that voice. There’s a new voice now, as if coming from some hearty gnarled tree that grew out of the mire and has weathered the storm. It’s saying: “I’ve held fast, you can too. Dig in deep and plunge ahead. Knowledge and appreciation come from lightning scars and twisted limbs.”
Morning found us calmly unaware.
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