Today is the last official day of Stella's summer vacation. I could write about how this feels ad infinitum, especially typing this while listening to a moody Flaming Lips song, but I feel like I've already made it clear here just how much this time together means to me. I can't help it. There is something so final about the end of this summer. It's the last time I'll be spending day after unfettered day with a two and a six year old. I've been getting a panicky feeling in my chest the last few weeks whenever I've thought about this day. I probably need to snap out of it. It feels so heavy, though.
We spend two back-to-back days at a pool this week. One was just Stella and I for seven hours on a lovely ladies' date. We had breakfast and brainstormed donut pan ideas and birthday party plans, and then swimming. It was wonderful.
That particular day we picked up our weekly veggie box, then David from his very late train ride home, and didn't open the box until the next morning. That's when I found these apples. I haven't seen an apple in that box for months. And there was no more corn. Undeniably, fall is on the way.
Where are all these feelings of finality coming from? They make me worried. My mother has told me many times that the best time of her life was when my brother and I were little. The way I feel now, I can believe it.
I told Stella the other day that we were going to make a pact to keep this summer going. Our warm weather starts soon. There's no reason we can't swim on the weekends and do the rest of the things we wanted to do on our "Summer Fun 2012" to-do list. There is so much fundraising, so much community building when school starts, it's hard not to get sucked in. But we don't have to go all in, at least not right away.