Summer Things Don't Change

At the Fair

So I’ve been out of the blogging world for a few months.  Summer passed. Time is different, days flow into one another and such activities as typing at a computer defer to those of summer - evenings at the lake, camping, catching up with friends, and watching Edwin play outdoors. Since I last wrote he has grown from just standing, to running and climbing everything, and Francis and I are having more fun than ever watching him discover the world.

He would eat the whole thing.

I also did a lot of pondering.  Summer comes with it those distinct memories of early childhood, not certain moments so much as a general feeling of being outside barefoot, playing in a mud puddle, the sprinkler, dodging hornets, slurping watermelon, an that funny plasticy smell when the tent is opened for the first time of the year.
And with these memories come the wistful reminiscences of times come and gone, now I sometimes feel, all too soon.

Mud.

Some icons of summer phased out and made way for new ones as I grew older -  instead of running through the sprinkler I was more likely to bask in the sun with a book and iced coffee. Until not long ago, this was my summer activity of choice.

So much has changed, and I must say goodbye to the way summers used to be.  Now I have a toddler.  Most of my time outdoors is rescuing him from racing to the road and channeling his budding inner florist ("Just smell, don't yank the flower. Yes, you may lick the water off the rose petals if you want to; no, you may not eat them.").

Sometimes, though, my siblings kindly take a turn chasing Edwin and I once again sit with a cold drink (I'm not picky, but hopefully it includes either caffeine or alcohol) and hope Edwin doesn't see it because he will inevitably beg for a sip.   On one such occasion turned on the sprinkler and I sat and watched my son experience the thrills of water play.

There he was, playing just as I played twenty years ago, a different year, but the same buzz of wasps and scents of summer. Only my viewpoint has changed. It's my turn to set up the sprinkler and supply the popsicles. It's more work but just as fun. Maybe even more fun, now that I see the full circle and treasure so deeply these years of his muddiness.

It's easier to move on, to let go all that was the glory of childhood, now that I see it's not really going very far.