last day

Tomorrow is the last day of school.  THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL.  It's surreal, really.  To think that this time next week there will be no where that any of us need to be.  That we can move slow like agave nectar, slow like light June wind, slow like folk music and white wine.  Slow.  Our life is so not slow in this moment. 

This morning everyone wanted to sleep.  Soli had been in my bed from two to four and when I finally kicked him out, I couldn't get back to sleep.  My hope for a yoga early morning was thwarted by the snooze button and a pretty foul mood.  From there it was the dirty kitchen, the pile of to do's for breakfasts and lunches, Jeff having to race out for an early meeting, me and the curls, the mismatched socks, the missing toothpaste.  All I really had to call my own was my perfect cup of chai.  When the kids opened the door to move towards the car, Lucy escaped.  She ran towards the poor poodle on a leash being walked by my down the road neighbor.  He got flustered, took her off the leash, the two of them began some insane dance up and down all the driveways.  The man and I followed suite, us screaming our dogs names, racing up other people's property.  Down with OPP.  The man was shouting, "She just had an operation!  She's not supposed to run!"  I was shouting, "I'm so sorry.  Goddammit, Lucy!"  The kids were screaming and jumping, "LUCY! LUCY!" The man's kid was about to miss his bus. 

Finally Eliana tackled Lucy, grabbed her collar, won the ridiculous game.  I apologized again to my neighbor, raced the kids to the car at which point, the chai, the blessed chai that had been balancing so perfectly by the car, was accidentally knocked by Soli's backpack and, alas, spilled her cardamon-y goodness down the driveway.  So I strapped the kids in, told them I would be right back, and took the time to heat myself another kettle of water.  I made another perfect cup.  Because on the second to last day of school, sometimes you just have to breathe, have to swallow being late before swallowing a morning without a simple gift of caffeinated loveliness. 

The good thing was that the re-telling of my morning had my sixth graders in stitches.  And I really love my sixth graders.  I always get all sappy and sad this time of year.  The graduations and promotions, the kids who move on to other schools or higher grades.  I was sappy during our end-of-the-year performance as I watched Eliana bust a move, sappy this morning at Soli's preschool show as I watched him sing his little heart out.  They have both had such awesome school years.  For that I am eternally thankful.  They love their teachers, love to learn, love their school and friends.  When it all seems like too much, I remind myself that we're doing it for them.  For all of them. 

This early June has been spectacular -- warm and sunshiny and perfectly spring-like.  All of us around these parts are kind of wondering what's up.  Our normal May/June is a cold, rainy/snowy/slurpy mess.  So we hike in the woods and bask in the sunshine.  We hang artwork on the deck and spend our afternoons outside.  Soli finally masters his bike.  Eliana takes hers over the ramp across the road, inspired by the across the street neighbor ten-year old boy's sweet tricks.  They shimmy up tree trunks and ask to hike their favorite mountains.  We put African violets in pots and mint and stevia and chives in the front yard.  Eliana loves to claim hunger and then pick herself a few leaves.  

Auntie and cousins arrive.  They love and share and dress-up and sing loud.  That cousin connection really begins to gel.  I feel how well we move through space, how important it is to always reconnect with family.  I see the complexities and depth of love as it moves through generations, the sadness that is watching someone slowly walk out of one life and towards the unknown. 

Our summer shines ahead with lots of adventure, family, friends, plans.  It's not wide-open, and that's got to be okay.  I will challenge myself to love on every hour that we have, even when the fights start up, even when they claim they have nothing to do.  I will rely on the blessed reserve inside, the channel that restarts and restarts bringing new life like the seasons, bringing new energy for each new day.