I can’t believe another summer is nearly over! I know that time moves faster as we age,
but this is ridiculous! At least this summer wasn’t like the one a couple of years ago. The one leading up to that late-August day …
… when a friend
asked me, “How was your summer?” I was sort of dumbfounded because, I realized, I hadn’t even noticed that it was summer. I was in such a routine that I just moved from day to day without particularly paying attention to what season it was. I certainly hadn’t done
anything to make summer different in any way, nothing specifically summer-ish.
At that point, I promised myself that I wouldn’t let that happen again. I have
few enough summers left, I said to myself, I’d better pay attention to them! Since then, I’ve made a point of noticing that it’s summer—and that I live in Colorado, for
Pete’s sake.
But for the last few days, I've been coming to terms with another reality: the fact that noticing summer doesn’t make it move any
slower or last any longer. Here we are, deep into back-to-school season,
another summer drawing to a hazy close. As I write this, I’m enjoying the smell
and the sounds of a classic Colorado late summer, late afternoon thunderstorm. It’s late August. Fall is around the corner.
Signs of one more summer’s winding down:
Signs of one more summer’s winding down:
Well at least this year I could answer my friend's question. “How was your summer?” she’d ask. “How long do we have?” I’d say, because this time I'd have tales to tell.
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