A Bit of Cancer

Summer was never my favorite season. I’d live for the cooler nights of fall, the beautiful sparkling snowscapes of winter, and the first happy blooms of spring. Summer was just hot, humid, and long.
I’d long for those first days of September when the air is a bit more crisp despite the warm temperatures and the first leaves drop bringing a buzz and excitement no other season could. I loved the longer nights huddled in my warm home with the people I love most. Thrilled at the prospect of a first snow and sparkling Christmas lights. And when the novelty fades and the gray becomes too much, the bright greens of spring burst on the horizon to save the day. But the oppressive heat of summer was never anticipated, at least not since I was a child- back when summer brought days of freedom splashing in pools, riding bikes until dusk, and endless adventures you thought would never end.

Somewhere in the years that have passed that changed. The heat and humidity aren’t quite so oppressive and I float in our little pool on the days they are. Evenings are spent strolling the garden to see what new treats are ready, and days wrap up on globe lit patios with the almost deafening symphony of cicadas buzzing in the trees while fire flies float magically above the green grass. And my children are nearby. Perhaps running through the yard with a deflated football, a border collie hot on their trail. Maybe in the chair next to me, asking questions or talking about the day and plans for tomorrow. Or sometimes tucked into their rooms on a call or game with friends.

I am confident I can pin the change in seasonal perspective to a single event: School. My babies became toddlers who turned into school children (and now teenagers and young adults) and suddenly our life was governed by bells and school calendars, bus routes and attendance policies. And with that summer returned to the freedom and magic of my own childhood long since gone. For a few short months responsibilities feel less heavy, obligations less strict, and the freedom almost endless. Late nights by campfires, sleeping in, jumps off boulders into mountain streams and waterfalls, running leaps from piers into cool Great Lakes. Casual dinners, walks among the cicada symphony just me and my boys and our dogs. Swings at the park, monkey bars, splashing in pools. Pure, simplistic magic.

Somewhere in those years, in the living of life, summer became my favorite. Not because the weather, but because the people in it. Autumn blends to Halloween, pumpkins get covered in snow and the magic of Christmas, the cold of winter breaks to the vibrancy of spring, and summer brings my kids fully home again. It is now the season I find myself mourning at its completion in nostalgic smiles.

Today was back to school for my youngest. A few years ago our district moved the start time back a few weeks – a most unwelcome change. Lazy mornings now have 6:30am bus times. Casual dinners replaced by rushed quick bites while jumping into cars to practices. The season remains, the heat and humidity still linger, the calendar still declares summer to be… but the magic has quieted and the carefree days have been traded for rushed mornings and busy evenings as a new routine settles in.

My son is a Junior now. Next year is our last premature end to our summer bliss – like his brother he’ll be in college but with a more reasonable return time the year after. And we’ll have several more weeks to splash in lakes and sit by campfires and have casual dinners and evening walks I excitedly anticipate.

A few days ago as our big summer trip was ending and we were being tossed in large Lake Michigan waves and making running leaps from large piers, I reveled in the thought that soon our summers would have more nights. More nights means more magic, because the truth is time is magic. And that’s what we all really want, more time.

But time is a thief as much as it is a generous curator. A double edged sword. And it occurred to me: With that extra time will also come the race toward college and careers and homes of their own. And I cannot wait to see them experience those things – a true privilege I pray I am afforded. But it made me wonder, when all the time is there and the constraints of school schedules removed, will summer still hold the same magic when they are not here?

I suspect not. The magic is not the weather or the length of light. It is them. The laughter, the adventures, the noise. But while the magic won’t be the same, I don’t expect it will be gone. The cicadas will still sing, the house will have the smell of summer and cool air conditioned floors, the garden will produce, and the globe lights of the patio and humming of the pool filter will remind me of all these nights by campfires and hunting underwater gems while dogs chase after laughing boys with deflated footballs. I know the summers of now will always be my favorite and I will miss them, but how beautiful and lucky will it be to carry those memories into all the summers to come. And I believe summer will still bring my children home, even if just for a little while.

For now though we’ll steal what we can from what summer has left. We’ll transition into cool nights and stadium seats and ice cream runs. And we’ll find adventures everywhere we can in between the rush.