“Let’s go for a bike ride,” I said to my kids. A cooler front had finally blessed us. I searched the bottom of my dresser drawer for a lightweight hoodie. It was, dare I think it, a touch chilly. I looked at the weather app on my phone. Sixty degrees, it read.
It’s been a hot summer. The heat brutal and the humidity unforgiving. Until the recent storms, the grass has been prickly and painful to the touch due to a lack of rain. The green had long moved to yellow then brown, waiting out the high temperatures in a state of dormancy.
My kids filled up their water bottles and grabbed their bike helmets. Off we went. Two wheels followed by two wheels followed by two more. Less than a mile later we enter a single track in the forest. Gravel crunches under our tires. A mist of dirt grabs hold of our shoes, pedals, and spokes as we cut down the trail.
It’s been quiet on my blog the past few weeks. Longer posts have come to a halt as have the shorter pieces. I don’t apologize for the quiet space it has become. It’s the nature of the season for me. It’s nearing the end of summer and my kids will soon return to school. I’ve been enjoying my time with them as much as I can before the organized chaos that is school and soccer season kicks in to high gear.
It looms.
As an adult, I find the end of summer a strange time. You’re caught in the middle of being done with the heat (bring on the cooler air) while simultaneously wishing the next season had elements of summer baked in: less stress, more time with your family. Let this next season remain a jog and not a mad dash where you can’t catch your breath.
When I was a young kid, summer was one of my least favorite seasons. My friend group was dispersed in different directions: summer camps, family vacations, nighttime baseball games. The start of school reversed that. My hometown friends were back home. Our late night games of basketball at the court resumed.
The gnats no longer sought out the lacrimal glands of our eyeballs. The horseflies as big as grandma’s Buick no longer dive-bombed us to the pavement. Tennis Ball, a Phenix original, replaced baseball.
Summer wasn’t chaos when I was young, but it held no order either.
When I was sixteen, summer had its advantages. My car could take me any place my heart desired. There were parties and more parties. And I was in a rock band, which helped. The Cabin, where we practiced, served as my home away from home.
Granted, no working toilet.
Unfortunately a sign on the door proclaiming its inability to flush didn’t always serve as a deterrent.
Talk about stank.
Now that I’m older, a parent of two kids and a husband, I find I don’t want summer to end. I try not to crave for things to remain the same. Nothing is permanent. Everything is always changing. But it’s hard.
On the plus side, my kids will return to school where they will make new friends. The sports they enjoy playing will resume. My attention and ability to write in a more focused way will fall back into place. My wife will be able to catch up with her peers at work.
Soon enough, it’ll just be me and the dog again during these hours. The lyrics of a 1990s country song. Except for when my dog wants to be fed, the quiet will be almost deafening. Then my wife and kids will open the front door, tired from a long day, and I’ll be glad to see them.
We’ll shove dinner down our throats and divide and conquer as we rush off in two different directions for soccer practice. Then we’ll do the same the next day and the next and the next.
What was I saying about catching one’s breath?
But until summer’s end is officially here, I can enjoy what’s left of it.
A high pitch from a brake handle signals our descent down the driveway. Sweat saturates our shirts. Dirt cakes our ankles.
“I’m so hot,” my daughter says.
“Water, water,” my son says letting the last drop from his water bottle fall onto his tongue like a parched man trekking through the desert.
We’re back inside now. The air conditioned environment latches hold to our soaked t-shirts. It’s almost too cold. I step onto our back patio and fall into a wicker chair. My body needs to adapt to the temperature.
I’m surrounded by mosquitos thirsty for blood instantly.
Maybe it is time for summer to end, after all.
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