I’m not used to it being just the two of us. Summer and I get along fine if I keep my expectations real. We used to be all about the kids or work or both. This year, summer stretched out on the hammock, looked me up and down and said, “Have a seat. What should we do?”
Luckily, I was ready with an answer.
》Celebrate Bridget’s amazing, eventful, wedding.
》A lovely family vacation full of stories, making, and the ocean.
By the end of that, we were still gaining daylight. “What next?”
I haven’t been free-range since Reading Road in 1980. I did what I always do—procrastinated by doing some work. Made a list of things I had to do in service of Academia. Did those. Napped. It was still June and Summer was getting restless.
》I started reading, for fun. Summer welcomed my old reading lists. I offloaded all my phone reminders, the running list of things I want to do but have no hope of getting to. I got to them in June.
》I made stuff. Together, Summer and I played with wool, yarn, thread, paper, paint.
》With room for still more, I pulled out old notes about my work in pediatric home care. That inspired me to get serious about a writing group. Turns out Summer thinks I have things to say.
More to come…
》the things I made
》the summer reading list
》the summer writing story