This Summer is Different

Theme song: Summer Nights

Hello, Friends.

I can't say for sure why, but this summer is different.

You may say that life is marked by constant change, so of course this summer is different. You won't be wrong, but still.

This summer is different, I insist, half stubbornly (I can be that way) and half in wonder.

I'll give you an example.

This is the first summer I have done such a thing as let my sons go, unaccompanied by an adult, crabbing.

Crabbing, in case you don't know, involves deep water. And public transportation (less of a concern -- perhaps).

My sons went crabbing, and I went to work. All day. This second factor marked another difference, one I'd been waiting for.

When I left my marriage, I left my identity behind (I wonder where abandoned identities go. Are they like horses, destined to chew grass in pastures or be turned into glue?).

Even in the terrifying early days of single motherhood (not an identity for which I had been longing), part of me knew enough to treasure my new, identity-free life because I knew that it was only temporary. Two things are true: One is, nature abhors a vacuum and two is, chaos offers possibility.

It was weird not having an identity (I found you can easily wash dishes and do laundry without one), but thrilling as well. You see, the opposite of chaos is inertia (I hope my physics friends will not argue), and inertia is another word for stagnation. Who needs it?

My children, of course, are not stagnant. They are growing and changing all the time, which is one of the fun things about children. I, though, can feel a pleasant pull away from entropy. It seems the pieces of my life are quietly gathering themselves up and getting ready to settle.

I say "getting ready to" because we're surely not there yet. I'm pretty sure if not positive that predictable income is a necessary attribute of settled. Yet I seem to be inhabiting a new life and a new identity. It's been forged somewhat on purpose (incidentally one of the fun things about being and adult -- your possibilities may be fewer, but your experience is greater and so it is easier to make choices).

I set goals and am working consciously to meet them. One of the goals was to raise my children, and another was to a create a career both challenging and interesting for myself and these things are coming to fruition.

Of course, stagnation is not the goal. Settled could sound boring. Think, then, of a majestic oak, roots tucked firmly into the earth, so you will not worry that I am destined for a life of boredom.

Now then, the crabbing. I have to say, it occurred to me off and on throughout the day that one of the of the children (probably the younger) might drown. This thought was not pleasant and goes to show some things don't change. Mothers tend to worry, it's true.

The children, however, were stellar. Not only did they show good judgment in not drowning, they braved MUNI incident free, didn't starve, and brought back 6 crabs duly cooked for dinner. When I got home, the kitchen was neat as a pin.

Which leaves us with something you probably already know, but I am having trouble grasping: My children are growing up.

Which means that, yes indeed, I will grow up, too.

Your Turn

How is your summer this year? The same as usual, or (weirdly) different?