September Sadness
The water in the town pool got colder, in spite of the daily infusion of warm bodies and (ugh!) warm fluids, and closed for the season.The new school year reared its ugly head and the stress level in my household climbed precipitously.I am not one of those mothers that rejoice on the first day of school, happily putting my child on the bus and then flitting off to join my friends for a second breakfast.No. I am the mother that walks them to the class, with a stiff upper lip, encouraging them to embrace the wonderful world of new opportunity that awaits them in the new teacher and the new school year, and then runs home crying.There, I said it.It doesn’t make me a bad person, it just reinforces what I always know, within the core of my being – these days are a precious gift and, good or bad, and most likely mixed, they are limited.Eventually I dust myself off and get myself to work, trying to ignore the fact that another blissful summer of trying to have fun and enjoy my children’s company in the midst of working and watching them argue is over.I make a vow to myself: try to keep the summer spirit alive by doing one fun thing after school/work together – even if all I can come up with is turning a quick trip to the grocery store into a survival adventure, invented solely for the purpose of bringing moms and their children a little closer together.I sigh. If we do all our homework and are really lucky, we will get a chance to share a story before bedtime.Every season has its beauty, I remind myself.And to those of us who sent our babies off to college this September, perhaps our emotions can be captured in one word: bereft! The cliche of how swiftly the years pass is an under exaggeration! But we have our memories, which soften the misery and crystallize and bring to prominence the joy. So as we look back wistfully on past Septembers, remember: we did the best we could, and they have all the skills they need to excel. It is now up to them.The good news?Well . . .The bathing suits will all finally dry out now . . .
