At the start of summer I’m like a sixteen year old who just got my driver’s license and is discovering freedom for the first time.
I make lists of all the things I’m going to see and do for the next three months. I wake up early and I stay up late. I’m overcome with immense guilt if I’m not doing everything in my power to soak up as much sunshine and outdoor air as possible. Time is wasting. Go. Go. Go.
Do all the things. Drink all the things. Patios. Boats. Rooftops. Festivals. Must. Keep. Going.
And then fast forward to the end of August. I still don’t want to summer to end and I’m definitely going to mope about it, but that young sixteen year old in me is long gone. Now I feel more like an 80 year old woman with sore old bones, who asks to be wheeled near the window, “to feel the sun on my face. If only just for a moment.”
I don’t know how to process what I’m feeling right now, but I’m somewhere in between not wanting summer to end, but also being over the feeling of thinking I need to be outside for every single second. Couch is calling. So is my old pal, isolation.
I’m more social than ever in the summer (which means I leave the house during the day at least twice a week to have interact with friends) and the 80 year old hermit inside of me is starting to beckon me back to her. Our hermit season is coming, Taylor…. Get out those old grey sweatpants you love. You know the ones. No, not the fancy ones from Nordstrom you pretend to love, I’m talking about those oversized grey ones with panther paws on the butt. The ones only we see…
And yet there’s that list I made so long ago, back when I was more youthful and so full of optimistic energy (in May.) When I look at my summer list and note the things I haven’t done yet, that old guilt cloud moves in, and with it the age old questions of,
Where did this summer go? It went too fast. What did we do? Were we gone too much? Did we waste it? How did this happen?
And for me the answer is no, I didn’t waste it. We had a great summer, I just didn’t live it off a list. And some of the things I set out to do back in May, (when I’m really being honest with myself) I’m not really even sure I want to do, but I wrote them down because I think I should do them.
*Kayak down the river*
Really? The garbage infested river where huge tour boats might run you over or even worse, bros in battery operated boats wearing neon visors? You want to do that?
Maybe I don’t.
And maybe I don’t know where this post is going, either. Does anyone know what feeling I’m talking about here?
The changing of seasons always seems to mess with my head. It’s like time is staring you straight in the face saying, we’re ready to move on, are you?
Time: “u up?”
Me: … (doesn’t respond.)
Yes, I’m up. Now wheel me near the window. We’ve still got at least a month of nice weather ahead of us. So I guess I should probably make my “Things To Do In Fall” list now, because as it turns out, I never really learn.
First things first, kayak down the river! I heard it’s supposed to be great in the fall!