Dear School Year,
This has been great, but I think we need to take a break. It’s not you – it’s me. And yes, there is someone else. I’ve been spending some time with Summer. Summer is different and fun. Summer is splashing in the pool and playing baseball in the driveway after dinner because it’s still light outside. Summer is the beach and a Fourth of July parade and cousins and the freedom to do as much or as little as we want on any given day.
You’re a little needy, School Year. You demand my kids seven hours a day and then, on top of that, give them a pile of homework? Summer lets me hang out with them all day, which I love. I know – they’ll fight with each other sometimes. Or maybe even a lot. I might miss running errands by myself. But, oh, the glorious promise of these weeks of leisurely independence from your demands!
It started out well nine months ago. School Year, I had such grand plans for our time together: get into fantastic shape, read books, get lots done around the house, and volunteer for you. Yet, you and I both know I’m no closer to six-pack abs, left many pages unturned, and still have clutter chic décor. I did greatly enjoy all my time helping with you, although admittedly the luster is starting to wear off even that. (To wit, I may have muttered some unkind comments as I sifted through no fewer than 6,000 of your fiendish little pink Box Tops this weekend.)
School Year, it’s getting awkward. We both know it’s essentially over, and yet you’re going to hang around until next Friday? Look, the teachers are as eager for you to be history as the kids are. Just wrap it up and leave us the yearbooks.
Let’s keep in touch, though. How about I call you in August, when you will be the one coming back on the scene fresh and full of possibility like a new box of crayons? We’ll probably be ready for you then – and tanned and relaxed, too.
So you take the worksheets, and I’ll take the kids. My boys will be all mine again, and these long Summer days ours to treasure.
But, hey, we can still be friends.