It’s now June, and that means summer break is upon us. My older two are winding up their kindergarten and second grade years, and my preschooler is already home with me.
By home, of course, I mean madly running as many errands as I can before all three are with me full-time, because any sense of quiet or space is about to disappear. I’ve just taken on a new freelance writing career while almost simultaneously deciding to found a nonprofit, and I’m already at a loss for how I am going to find the time and solitude that these endeavors require.
At the same time, I’m as excited as ever for summer. We always make a “bucket list” of things we want to do, learn, and see. We take road trips. We don’t rush. We’re outside all the time. We eat popsicles. We pick berries. We read copious amounts and juggle more than one summer reading program. We swim – whenever the kids can talk me into the rigmarole of sunscreening, snack-packing, towel-stuffing, goggle-finding, and thunderstorm-forecast-watching.
I don’t want to lose any of this, and I don’t suppose we will. Kids have a way of filling all the space available. And I’ll squeeze in what I need to in the evenings and during naptime (quiet time for the elders) or when they have their few camps and the occasional babysitter.
The way I see it, we’ve all been on different paths all the school year long. Two different schools, three different classrooms, and me doing my own thing plus buzzing from child to child and school to school. But now, in lovely June, our paths converge. We are all here again, present, on the sunny, summery bridge between school years. And we’ll cross it together.
Image credit: http://www.michaelkarg.com