Julia sits at the table at breakfast, yogurt-covered spoon in hand and says, “The other day, when I was in school . . . ”
But what breakfast-eating Julia really means is “Three-and-a-half months ago, when I was in school . . . ”
And that’s the difference, isn’t it? The time-defining difference between mothers and their children. Kids think summer is far too short and see it slipping away, blink and it’s gone. But mothers wonder where September is because it feels light-years away. At least this is how I feel right now. In this moment, I feel like summer might never end. Maybe this hopelessness was sparked by a hours-long tantrum Julia pitched yesterday over cleaning her room, at the peak of which, she kicked the side of her bed, screamed because it hurt, and then blew her nose in her blankie. But we’re fighting fiercely in different directions of the subject of the summer time lapse too. And quite honestly, tomorrow I go meet our new teachers before school starts Wednesday. The end is in sight. Summer is all but over. And yet, I still feel so . . . defeated.
So when did I loose my kid-like ability to make time fly? When did I loose that simplistic view that zooms summer away? Did I loose it growing up? When I graduated? When I had children? Did it slip away as the feeling grew up in my kids?
And maybe the even more important question is how do I get it back? Because I think Julia’s on the better side of this battle. Her outlook is infinitely positive and happy and so much more fun. So much more like the way summer is supposed to look.