Summer Where Art Thou?

It’s a short 14 day stretch from here until my three boys return to school and I’m feeling a mix of so many different things. I had better hopes for this summer. There was so much more I wanted to do with my kids, and now there’s no time other than to juggle our schedule, shop for school, and make sure everyone has every item that I check off on their school list. Last summer felt like bliss that went on forever with mild days and so much time swimming at or favorite lake beach. This summer just seemed overwhelmingly busy, like I had no control of it, and so damn hot.

But there was good. And if I brush aside my spite for a moment to let the awesome in, I can see it. There were a few lakeside days in the beginning, camping, lots of icecream, cooking together, family walks/bike rides, and hand holding. We had friends over, many nights of dinner cooked on the grill, tan lines, and weekends packed full. 

So I’m not gonna be mad or sour about what wasn’t. Life is to short to hold a grudge against a season. It is what it is, it is what it was. Bring on autumn with its slow singing crickets, warm sweaters, and lazy weekends by the wood stove.

A “Duh” Moment 

I’ve been a little hung up on the whys lately. Why this? Why that? What’s causing this? What’s causing that?
I’ve been digging deep ~ fingers like claws, getting nothing but feelings stuck under my nails. Like sand grit… So hard to get out, and ultimately annoying.

I’ve been feeling guilty for not being what others wish of me, even though I’m being as much as I can. Bilbo Baggins had it right when he said “I feel like to little butter spread over too much bread”. 

I’ve felt left out of certain loops, cast to the sidelines… sitting on the players bench when really I yearn to be invited within the team huddle. No one likes to be a treated like a stranger peering in. A hungry dog begging at the door.

I’ve been dwelling on the wondering of when life’s tides will calm down, like sea foam stretching across open beach ~ instead of the crash Crash CRASH of heavy waves against rock.

I’ve been wondering when is this heat going to break? When can I open the windows again? When will the sweat stop? 

But in the midst of all this emotionalism, I’ve realized something that feels like, DUH! And it’s this…

You can’t make everyone happy.

You can’t change the weather.

And you can’t slow life down.

You can only be a leaf on the surface of a moving stream. Allowing yourself to quite literally go with the flow. Even if you get hung up on an obstacle, or fallen limb. When the time is right, you will loosen from the snag, and continue to flow again. 

It feels so stupid to realize this just now. But I have. And thank goodness for it.


Some things you just have to let go of a little. What will be, will be. You do the best you can. 

I have found solace in this simple realization. And with it, I feel like a weight has been lifted. It’s amazing how freeing it is, to give yourself permission to break down your lofty expectations.


Blank Slate

What seems like forever ago, but has only been a handful of years… I used to blog. Regularly. More than regularly really, every day in fact. It was on a different site, by the same name and I had lots of folks who checked in with me whenever I posted a new something fun to read.

But the internet is a dangerous place, and I learned that you just can’t put your whole self out there. Like little red riding hood, you must be ever so careful of the wolves hiding within the forest. Blogging became a ruined place for me. I no longer felt safe within one of my favorite places of self-expression… and so, I deleted that chapter, quite literally. It’s now just shredded internet trash floating around in pieces like space junk through the world-wide web.

It was okay at first not to write. But I am a writer. As much as I must create visually, I must also create verbally. Take words and lace them together, hand-stitching vowels and consonants until they are harmonized in unison. I attempted journals… one notebook after another but I failed to make them a ritual. I found myself constantly writing in my own head, but what good are words that become forgotten or lost? So then I just didn’t write. And not writing at all felt like a motionless pool of water. Stagnant.

I. Need. To. Write. It’s who I am, I can not deny that part of me. So here I am. Baby deer on uncertain new legs, taking small steps one after another… after another… after another…

Everyone needs to wipe the chalkboard clean everyone once in a while and become a slab of fresh blank slate. Full of potential and untainted by what came before.