Musings on summertime

These are the things I will remember

In our home, summer comes to an end in three weeks. At that time, my daughter’s school schedule resumes. After months of no structure, I begin to crave one. Set work hours. Early morning rituals I can count on. But each year it is different. Each year my daughter grows a year older. She is 15 now. She no longer needs me to make her lunches. She no longer asks me to curl up in bed while she closes her eyes. How motherhood pulls us in so tight when they are babies. Wrangles us until we lose all sense of time and place when they are toddlers. Then they slowly let us go as they enter the school years. From there, the unraveling begins - our bodies held in such close proximity to theirs for so long. Just as we became so used to being needed, they begin to let us go.  

Every summer we take a trip to Yosemite National Park. The giant sequoias, granite cliffs, and bear signs welcome us into the park. Our campground is always different. This year, we were by a lazy river. Not the kind you ride a river raft down but more one you float on in the warm breeze while fireflies use you as a resting spot. A place where elk come to lick the trees and woodpeckers rest on tree trunks.

The heat drained us of any will to hike. The cold river was a delightful refuge until the late day. One never tires of floating among the trees. No weight of the phone in hand. Just birdsong and small wings airborne.

Tall velvety-leafed wildflower stalks were sprinkled around the campground. Little yellow flowers burst out of the top like kernels of corn on the cob. I took the great mullein leaf between my fingers and there I was, 10 years old again. I was living in a small mountain town in Colorado. These plants grew all over in the summertime. My friend and I would pick their leaves to keep in our pockets along with the fragrant bluebells. The great mullein and bluebells were the vibrant pops of color in the landscape of sienna and evergreen.

It brought me back to my childhood home and all the memories that never fade with time. The camping trips my father planned. Picking out flowers at the nursery with my mother. The ceramic flower pots we painted to decorate the deck. Both of my parents worked full-time, but those little things we did - they were everything.

I have run my creative business from home for 15 years now. It is hard to draw the line between work and home. In the past, I’ve felt so anxious for not getting enough done in the summer. But this summer I allowed myself to let go of the timelines I put my art projects on. Because summer only comes around once a year. I have to trust the universe. That everything ebbs and flows. A time to work hard. A time to slow down. And a time to spend in the sun floating on the river and hearing the whispers of my own girl’s dreams.

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The night sky out in the wilderness. There is nothing quite like it. I forget how many stars live in the night sky when it is dark enough to see them. I took off the top cover of the tent - just a thin net between us and the stars. I spied a shooting star on the first night - seems they are plentiful in a place like this. I always imagine having a bedroom with a glass ceiling so each night I can fall asleep below them.

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“Look what was sewn by the stars at night across the fields.

I am not defined by scars but the incredible ability to heal.”

By Lemn Sissay

Share your own found gem this summer. Leave a comment below.
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Until next time. ✨ Kim