Summer (part 2)

Summer 2.4Today’s Word: ‘Summer’ … as in where did it go?

I ran across an old letter from some parents to their child who had somehow grown out of diapers and into adolescence, out of rebellion and into responsibility, out the house and into life as a self-sustaining individual heading into the first semester of college. The letter was written at about this time of year on one of those days when paying close attention to the seemingly insignificant paid off. Today, and for the next couple of days, we’ll spend a little time in this letter:

“Hey Kiddo, I passed a school bus full of kids on my walk today. It’s the first day of classes for these sad, excited, tired, anxious and forlorn faces. Summer dreams turned to memories must be packed away, put on the shelf in a closet as the seriousness of school becomes the talk around kitchen tables all over town. No matter how much these kids anticipate the little thrills that await them—from new books and pencils, lunch boxes, new shoes, and multi-pocketed backpacks to checking out the cute little girls or boys in the next row of seats—while they’re on that big, rumbling, clumsy yellow bus, the sadness of a summer fled is all that matters to them. You, there in the dorm won’t have that same drowsy, rattled trip over railroad tracks and through neighborhoods to get to your classes. But I’m sure that during the first week there, at school, in the evening, when you’re still not settled in, or quite comfortable with the way the carpet squares and lofted bunk beds fit the room you’ve been given—and your roommate is out of the room for a while and the halls are beginning to quiet for the evening, you too will have that same sad feeling of a summer fled. My heart aches for you…”

[to be continued…]


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