Before you go, we need to talk.
I am sorry I haven't always been so nice to you. I've complained about your arrival. I bemoaned your bright days that require sunscreen and bugspray. Your lack of adherence to a schedule. No school or rules.
I know I haven't exactly been fair. I mean, my birthday falls during your time. And a number of really great things have happened to me when you've been visiting. Years of playing kick the can and wandering around the neighborhood. Going to my cousin's house and swimming and exploring in the woods. Boat rides up at the river. My first kiss, my first love, my first job. As a teenager I loved your long, idle days and hot, unpredictable nights.
I love that we wear sandals together and I can let my hair dry on its own. I dig your strapy tops and brown skin. Kids playing in sprinklers. Ripe blueberries, green beans and tomatoes fresh from the garden. Eating outside. Fireworks.
And this year, you've really outdone yourself. The kids have grown so much. Reached amazing milestones. I've evolved, too, with the running and blogging. And Matt, he's finally making the move he's been thinking about for so long. You've ushered in some really cool changes for our family.
But, I just can't handle that much of you. You insist that we have a fabulous time when sometimes, I just don't want to be that happy. You arrive with such fanfare and intensity. Then, you slowly burn everything out. The lawn is brown, my garden is doomed, even Scott's sunflower has withered up. You're not good for me. I do better with a routine. And, quite frankly, I've always looked forward to when it's time for you to leave.
(psst...BFF, Autumn, I know you are ready to move in. I've felt your presence for the last few weeks. It gets dark earlier and the nights are cooler. I hear the marching band practicing. I set up your room. The windows are open. I am so looking forward to your visit this year. To watching football games and going to the pumpkin patch. To raking leaves and pulling on sweaters. She's almost gone now, I know you don't like to be pushy, she'll see it's your turn soon ...)
I know you aren't quite ready to go. That even though school starts tomorrow, technically you still have a few weeks. So while you are still here, I'll try hard to appreciate you. To remember how I felt about you as a kid. I'll look forward to your return next year and all that you will bring.
One last hug before you go?
Now, move on, girl, your time is up.