Long August

I've never been a fan of summer—have never had that kick-back, turn-it-off, do-nothing personality.  I'm not knocking the carefree, believe you me.  I see what kick-back does for others.  I know how calm they can be.

This summer—when the heat locked us down (an impenetrable cloud), when the economy wheezed,  when I had far more unknowns in my life than knowns—has seemed especially long.  Books have kept me company; dance; the ladies of Zumba; some new friends; some stalwart ones; all of you.  I've not wanted the summer to end, for that means taking my son back to school.  And yet I've yearned for far less heat and much, much less uncertainty.  I have yearned for an autumnal breeze.

Yesterday that breeze began blowing.  A hoped-for corporate project surfaced—a substantial project, a think project, a project for a client I've always loved.  A long conversation with my son yielded a promise to take one of our famous long walks.   An email hinted at a possibility (only as of yet a possibility) for a book, mostly written, that means the world to me.

Hold on.  That's what summer teaches.  Maybe next summer I'll learn to go carefree.