Welcome,
As a testament to the "plague" like flu that has hounded our family for more than 3 weeks now, I began this post weeks ago, and I can no longer remember entirely where I was going with it!
But, for better or worse I am going to share that which I had written and perhaps find a conclusion that has meaning in the now.
Here we are in the first full week of August, in all it's crazy heat, and back to school bargains, and gardens full of too many tomatoes and zucchini. Here we are waiting for summer to feel like it has actually begun, yet waiting for summer to end, and also waiting for a day when there is absolutely nothing on our agendas. And yet, this day will never come.
This is the underhanded trick that summer plays on us. This false sense of bonus time to enjoy what we don't usually take the time to do. These days with extra sunshine, and warmer air, and cooling breezes, and lush plant life surrounding us. We rush to do as many tasks that we haven't had time to do and inadvertently do more than we have in months! We take away from our own free time because at long last, particularly here in the northern woods of Maine, there is enough sunlight to be outside after 7:00 at night without a sweater and a hat.
Summer is a special time when everything seems possible. There is electricity in the air itself as thunderstorms charge through and create flashing moments that sear our consciousness. Great downpours of rain soak the ground, refresh the lakes, and run in rivulets down the tarred roads near our houses. We get caught out in a storm, and if it has been humid for any length of time, we linger, soaking up the cool wet rain into our own sticky pores. We laugh. We dance. And if we are lucky, our 9 year old son turns to us and says that our trip through the run-off of the back roof is maybe "the best thing we've ever done!" Drenched and dripping we smile at our own youthful desires reflected back to us in our children. Everything is possible.
And then, we check our calendars, and with horror and secret relief, we see that school begins in less than 4 weeks. How is this possible? How can it be that summer already has an end hurtling at us with ever increasing speed? Where did it go? How can I get it back? What special things will I be able to do before it's too late?
But as I sit here, pondering my fate, my rapidly ending time of "freedom," I can glimpse the bigger picture for just a moment. I can see the metaphor come to life. I am always wondering where my time went. I am all too often worried about the future rather than being present in the here and now.
And it hits me that the trip through the waters from the clouds are indeed better than any trip to a hotel pool, a waterpark, or even the local lake. That half-crazy dash through unpredictability and muddy ground, barefooted and shirtless, feeling relief from the confines of our routines, is the best thing we've ever done. I have stepped outside of me for a moment more than usual. I have stopped being an anxious and overprotective father long enough to see the joy in my son and in myself as we allow ourselves to be silly, and wet, and reckless, and spontaneous. I have stopped planning my every breath, if even for 5 minutes, and it is the best thing I have ever done with my son. It is the best thing because I am there, with him, and nothing is between us. My worries, my bills, my fears, my expectations, my biases, my entire worldview, are all relinquished in that rain. I have let go. And my boy can see all of this, and he knows I am there only for him. I have let go of me, and I have embraced him. I have let go of control, and I have embraced trust.
These fleeting glimpses of summer, that move more rapidly with each passing year, are the backbone of my love of summer and my desire to literally drink up each moment and save them for future use. And there it is, I lose myself to the future and I worry that I have missed an opportunity to squeeze one more drop out of each day, and instead I miss the chance to be in the moment right now. I miss the chance for the next "best thing we've ever done" as I plan what I think will be even better. And unfailingly, I am wrong.
The best thing I've ever done was to stop and listen to the words my child was actually saying, and know that he was being honest, because I offered my whole self, and believed that it was good enough, and together we were exactly who we were meant to be.
In no time at all summer will be gone, school will be back in session, I will have more work to do, and everyone will be rushing about adjusting to the new schedules and wishing for one more day of August heat, or July sunshine, or June potential. But we will be missing the now, missing each other, and missing the point.
And if I'm able, I will remember the best thing we ever did as father and son, one summer night, running in the rain, and I will be present to the moment I am in, and we will do the best thing we've ever done. We will be exactly who we are meant to be and we will be content and fulfilled by that gift.
Thank you for joining me on the journey.
Be well, love your neighbor as you love yourself, and remember to actually love yourself.
-Ari
