Only the Dog

No one hangs on my leg any more as I leave the house.

Only the dog.

No one wants to know where I'm going and when I'll be back.

Only the dog.

No one responds to my texts about shopping when I ask what everyone wants.

No one runs to greet me when I return home.

Only the dog.

No one gets underfoot to carry the groceries in and help unload.

Only the dog.

Everyone comes when I start cooking dinner and wants to know what that smell is.

Even the dog. 

August

Every day in August is a Sunday... maybe you've heard this before, probably from a teacher. Every day in June is like a Friday, every day in July is like a Saturday, and every day in August is like a Sunday. All that anticipation of BTS. My nieces have a rule not to use the "S" word. You know, the one that starts with s,c,h. Shh - don't say it. That time of year when everything ramps up - kids, paperwork, forms, shopping, planning, packing, scheduling, and trying so hard to fit in one more moment of summer and to APPRECIATE it before it's all gone. I don't have any advice. I don't know how to relish the days or to make them last longer. I don't know how to slow things down. I think trying to just makes it worse. I've tried countdowns and picturing today as the last day of summer and none of it works. I asked a teacher friend how many days he had left before returning to school and he said, "Oh, I don't count." So I'm trying that. It's not really working because the looming end is there whether I recognize it or not. But I think what might help a little is to take stock of everything that's happened, not this summer, but maybe this month, or this week. So here's a top five list for this week:

1. Time to pause - I'm savoring my morning rituals with quiet time for coffee and candles because in a few weeks there just won't be any time. My husband and I have been sitting here almost every morning. Sunflowers make it special!

2. House projects - these materials were all down the basement and I finally got everything together to make this new shelf. It feels so good to accomplish something, anything that makes a space feel new again. And it's another checklist item I can cross off!

3. Time outside - Yesterday I asked Annie if she wanted to eat outside and when she said no, I reminded her that winter is long... sorry. She repeated it to me later. So we have to enjoy it, no matter what we are doing: gardening, walking, swimming, hiking, laying on the beach or by the pool, eating al fresco! Just get out there and soak it in. 

4. Friends for lunch - I had friends over for a late summer afternoon and I made cucumber gazpacho. Yummy delicious food, preferably from your garden, helps. (My cukes were from produce junction:( ) Time with friends helps! 

5. Time for fun - Last night my cousin played with his band "Asbury Fever" at a free outdoor concert - a full old-school set list of BRUCE songs and it was wonderful! I danced my heart out! Why isn't Thunder Road on my playlist? And who knew that I know every word to Trapped?!  It's not too late to find free stuff to do.

One more thing I am doing is spending special time with each child before they go back to school. Yesterday, Annie and I drove to do some "Destination Shopping". Did you know this is a thing? My definition is different than the retailers' definition though. We drive somewhere off the beaten path, where there's secondhand shops, good food, and nice scenery. Our drive there is half the fun! We drove out to Devon and Wayne, PA, to visit our tried and true places. We listened to our own old songs in the car and Annie surprised with a few old songs from when she was little, like Martina McBride's This One's For the Girls!  She didn't like it when I started crying though. Today Charlie and I are going to lunch at his favorite BBQ place. I promise not to cry. No pressure, no agenda, just a nice lunch. 

Just writing this is helping me to savor these days. I guess it's like self-care for summer, or Summer-Care. What's on your Top Five this week? What can you put on your weekend list to make it special? Enjoy and take care of your summer! 

Homecoming

 One of the great joys of parenthood is when your child comes home. It doesn't really matter where they have been, just that they are home. Sometimes it can be from school and you were worried when you sent them out the door, about their friends, their tests, their work. Sometimes it can be from an outing and you were hopeful things would go as planned or as they imagined. Sometimes it is from their first job and they walk through the door exasperated and exhausted and you can cook them something and they feel better. Sometimes it can be from college and you are so grateful to see them again and hold them in your arms. And sometimes it can be from very far away after a very long time and they are transformed from when they left you. And you have to pause and say, Oh my goodness. Who is this? Where have you been? How are you? How are we now that you have this new story to tell? 

This week Matt got home from Alaska, after 40 days working as a fishing quality control monitor on a boat in the Naknek River. And he is different. When we picked him up, spotting him in the midst of the nighttime crowd in the darkness surrounding Newark Airport, he raised his arm when he saw us over rows of cars and taxis. The joy of that image is still with me. He was wearing a hoodie and carrying two huge bags of gear and he had a beard, the kind that is patchy and not quite full even after 40 days of not shaving. And he had a big grin because he was happy to see us but I also think part of it was that he knew how happy we were to see him. I couldn't hug him long enough - long enough to know he was solid and sure and good. That's the worst part about airports - there should be a Hug Lot, like the cellphone lot, where you can at least get a good hug in before having to rush out, dodging cars and traffic so you don't hold anything up. Anyway, we hugged long enough for me to know he wasn't the same nervous kid we had left off at the Philly airport weeks before. He was new. New for all the reasons you can imagine. For meeting new people. For trying new things. For learning new ways. For the sheer fact that he had traveled so very far. (He was closer to Russia than he was to our house!) 

As Matt sat and told us the tales of his adventures and showed us pictures on his phone from his boat, from a float plane he traveled on to Katmai, from a hike he took in Colorado on his way back home, I couldn't listen. I listened, but I couldn't pay attention. I was flooded with the images in my own memory of him as a little kid, fishing at Grandfather's. Of him climbing mountains and hills when I was there to see that he was safe. Of him and his best friend setting trails in the nearby woods so they could ride their bikes over jumps. Of him going off to college and then returning home because the school wasn't the right fit. And I couldn't believe this was the same boy, the same one who is now using words like galley, and crane and hold and cargo and weight checks and temperatures and RSW, which is Refrigerated Sea Water, in case you want to know, in telling us stories of another world, one I will never see. The one who is telling us about eating some bad fried food just before a storm sent 40-foot surges of water up over the boat, making him seasick that one time. The one who is telling us about people he's met and will hopefully stay in touch with, who he plans to see again next year. The girl (is it Caroline?) who calls and tells them what boat to get on next and where to go. And I can't collect all the details, it's like my mind is too full of these images and ideas and I'm trying to place him there and yet keep him where I knew him best.

It's hard because I can't keep up and yet I can't shut down the memories and yet at the same time, I just want to take him in. I want to remember the chiseled features of his face. (Did he eat enough?) I want to reach out and touch his big muscular arms. (Did they work him too hard?) I want to remember his little yawns that he tries to swallow and hide in his conversation. (Did he get enough sleep? Where did he sleep?)   He looks only a little tan. (Thank goodness he used sunscreen!)  It's as if I'm the quality control monitor now, analyzing everything and computing how good it really was and if he actually did well. And I know he did. I feel it from his words and between all the things he's not saying, with the little smiles that light up his face as he recalls what it was all about.

And then I am brought back to reality because I ask a question that he just answered and I should have been listening. I quickly shake my head and say Oh, right! Sorry! And I want to say, "I was just in my head, thinking about all the befores that have led you to this point, to this day, to this life, and let me tell you how wonderful it is to see you! To see you embracing this life! To be full of wonder and curiosity - about people and places and worlds! And how absolutely wonderful it is to have you Home! "

And so I just say, It is so good to have you Home.