It was a summer of
living and dying.
Gathering, tenderness, reunion.
Art, music, great food,
quiet, heat, sun, shade.
New friends and old friends.
Of burying grandparents and a generation passed;
weeping with friends
And rejoicing with others;
marriage, babies, new endeavors, new commitments, new relationships.
There was kissing, wishing, writing, hoping.
Momocho's is ah-maz-ing,
little ones refused to go to VBS,
my mom turned sixty,
our sweet friend Anny lived with us for a month,
a fun week with grandparents visiting,
reunions with friends and uncle from faraway places,
little girl tea parties,
exploring the city in the summer
and lots of trips to the country.
It was a summer of rest and a summer of endless motion.
It was a summer to reflect,
a summer of fireflies and dirty feet,
of refusing to exercise,
learning to swim and learning to fly.
Waking too early and staying up too late,
laughing too hard and too much coffee,
of growing up and growing softer,
a summer of remembering and a summer for planning,
for bad moods and funks and girlfriends-are-better-than-therapy.
It was a summer of living deep and wide,
of peach juice dripping down our arms,
wild rain storms.
It was a summer of wild and precious and love like mad.