Summer

Summer is a great time of year for me.

My kids are finally done with all their extra-curricular activities, school is out, traffic gets lighter on the commute to work, and my favorite:  I get "me" time back.

This is very useful, especially when I'm in the 'home stretch' of finishing up my manuscript that I'm working on.  No longer do I have to stop what I'm doing, gather my kid(s) and play Mom's Taxi to the school or whatever event they are involved in.  No longer do I have to sit and wait for them to finish up and then cart them back home.

No.  Now I can come home from work, get them fed, and then sit down and concentrate at a long run.  I don't have to interrupt my flow of consciousness, but can let it run its course.  Instead of getting only a few pages down, I can get an entire chapter.  Which is great.

But this is also bittersweet.

Each summer that passes is another summer my children get closer to adulthood.  A time when they will start moving and doing things on their own, without the benefit of their mother (or father) having to be there.  A time when their friends will take precedence, their schedules more important than ours.  But I feel that as parents, we shouldn't be sorry for this, because I feel it is because of how we've raised them and loved them that they feel confident enough to go out into the world and do their own thing.  Because they know deep down that they will always have a home to return to, will always be loved.  And that fact gives them wings.

While I am glad to have more time to myself, I will also begin to miss the time I've spent so closely with my kids.  It is a double-edged sword, but a necessary one.

So I will bury my nose in my laptop and write away, because I find pleasure and solace in doing so.  And I know that at the end of the day, my kids will be home for the night, laughing and nagging each other as siblings are so oft to do.  And I, sitting at my laptop, will enjoy every moment of it.

TMS