Today is the last “official” day of summer. I am ready to see it off. This summer was amazing and horrible and I will miss parts and I am falling to my knees in gratitude that some parts are over.
This was the summer I turned 30. I had an amazing surprise party, had a very sick toddler for several months, and got family pictures with my mom, sister and daughter that I will cherish for a lifetime.
I had playdates and girlfriend dates and couple double dates and dates with my husband. I got one massage, spent one night out of town for the first time without my daughter, and spent far less time than I would have liked to at the pool. I spent a huge percentage of the sparkly summer days in the fetal position on our couch, trying with all my might to just. Not. Puke. Days of sea bands and meals consisting solely of pretzels and an all-consuming exhaustion and nausea blended together until they felt like all I had ever, ever known.
We went on walks and drives and to the fair. We watched fireworks and ate barbeque and witnessed our flowers bloom and die and re-bloom again. My husband and I sat on our cement steps as the sun set at night and looked out at the world from our front porch and talked about our future, the kids, the jobs, the homes. All the things we wanted to change, to accomplish, to experience.
Friends had babies and friends lost babies they’d never hold.
I went to hospital rooms to hold new bundles of squirming, perfect joy and felt like crying because life is so beautiful.
I watched as a friend said goodbye to her child one last time on a sunny afternoon, surrounded by friends and family dressed in black, and tried to hold in my angry sobs because life is so hard, and brutal, and cruel.
I found out on a hot, bright morning late in June that I was carrying our second child. I held my breath as I heard our baby’s heartbeat for the first time.
How does so much brutal and beautiful occur in such a tiny slice of time?
So, I am ready. Ready to move into a new season, both literal and figurative. I’m ready for cooler air and falling leaves and sweaters and maternity pants and Halloween and the “honeymoon” trimester of pregnancy. I’m ready to see what new beautiful things await me and pray that making it through the rough parts of the past season will help steady and strengthen me for the hard parts of the next season.
Goodbye brutiful summer. Fall, please be kind.