I gotta thank the Lord that you made me
There are no words that can express how I feel
You never kept a secret, always stayed real
And I appreciate, how you raised me
And all the extra love that you gave me..."
Nevertheless, with a bit of meteorological luck, a hat the size of the Independence Day UFO and a treasure trove of concealed nook and cranny coolers, I made it. We've been to the State Fair. School supplies are labeled, stacked and waiting. In 4 days, white pants (which I haven't worn since circa 1993) are verboten.
Despite the circumstances, the burdens I carry with and for my children through the long, hot hegira of summer, though heavy, are more than worth the joy. I go into Fall a little more broken down in body, but closer connected to galloping happiness of childhood--both mine and theirs.
We marveled at the dark and the stars.
We met E.T. for the first time, again.
We read books of adventure in the lazy hammock of sunny afternoons.
We practiced our strokes, collected new freckles and turned prune-y in lakes.
We visited our elders, let them coo over us and serve us salads named after once-luxurious hotels whose heydays have long passed.
We got excited over ice cream.