Is it true summer's ending?
I know *technically* summer doesn’t end until late September. But already a window breeze has replaced the air conditioner and brown leaves crunch under my flip-flops and in my heart I know that fall’s around the corner.
I’m always sad to say goodbye to summer. It seems strange to say that, since I told you recently that August makes me sad. But the truth is, I’m a summer baby. Born on the 14th of July, I can’t help but love the hot hot heat blasting down on my pale skin. New York City feels alive in the summer, too. Friends have dinner on sidewalk cafes or share beers in backyard gardens or gather for picnics in Central Park. There’s a buzz that doesn’t exist any other time of year.
Fall 2009 is going to be a big and busy time. I’m going to be a professor. Mark’s working hard on freelance design projects. Suddenly it feels like our summer move-in was so long ago, and our work-work-work routine has taken over.
How do people balance it all, all the time? Was it any easier in the olden days?
I think of my parents in their younger days, two teachers in Queens who had the summers off. They, too, used to feel this way in late August: the half dread/half excitement of a new school year starting. Now I’m a teacher like them, diving into a career I always thought I’d love.
Less dread, more excitement. I think that’s the lesson learned at 1AM tonight. Now, time for bed!