It seems like about a minute ago that we were plunging into summer . . . and now August is already looming.
So many important experiences have just been waves on the sand: roll on, relentless time.
I've been on a blog vacation -- not by any plan or design, but just because I haven't had the time/space to order my thoughts. Many years ago I had a dream of becoming a journalist, but one of the many flaws of that career plan is that I need time and space to write. I don't "think" well under pressure. I've never been any good at soundbites or punchlines; I can't come up with the first, and I can't remember the second.
My youngest daughter "graduated" from school a few weeks ago. Not many children change schools at age 13, but there is something wonderfully appropriate about 13 as the age of transition. After weeks of farewell dinners and concerts and plays and exhibitions, there was a beautiful ceremony designed just for the "leavers" and their parents. The children chose their favourite hymns and scriptures, including those true and memorable lines from Ecclesiastes: To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under the sun. A simple, powerful truth.
Our move to Oxford has been put off for a year, and maybe longer. All signs have pointed to stay. Although my youngest daughter will be moving there for school, she started digging in her heels at the thought of too much change all at the same time. Meanwhile, we didn't have even a nibble on the house. I have a new job close-by, and Sigmund is still looking for the right opportunity. It took me a few months to accept this change of plan, but I've come around now. I've started making plans for the garden again; it's time to weed and replant. There are holes to fill.
Meanwhile, summer.
We've already done the back-to-school shopping: but the new woolen kilt and leather shoes can be packed away for now. It's time to plant our feet in the surf . . . and let the sand run through our fingers. I'm embracing what's here and now.
