Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone.
~ Thomas More
Today I sit in my garage and watch the hot summer slowly fade
away. If going to school had any prolonged effect on me it was that it
permanently adjusted the way I view the passing of a year. I am forced by
convention to follow the calendar and the weather, but internally, I still view
the beginning of a year when the first school bell rings. That is when
summer is over. Many, who wear white
shoes, traditionally mark the end of summer as Labor Day, but I think we all
know that summer does not end abruptly on that date. It just quietly,
almost imperceptibly moves into autumn, unnoticed that it is gone until the
leaves and temperatures begin to drop.
There are early signs that summer has begun to fade when the sun
goes down earlier and earlier, comes up later and later, and mornings and
nights are cool. The flip-flops, bathing suits, balls, and bikes are
replaced by stacks of school supplies and schedules on the kitchen table.
I start thinking about clearing the brush and contemplating when will be
the right time to store certain things. Children become anxious, part
nervous about what the new year will hold. They are part anxious and part excited
about seeing friends and embracing the new. Despite their complaints I
sense that as they try on their new clothes and shoes there is an unspoken
desire to show everyone how much they have changed and grown over the
summer. My high school daughter got a cut and dyed her hair. For them is
it a new beginning. For some of us it is just yet another change in the seasons.
As the older ones have come by the studio to say their final
good-byes and thank me for a good season, I can already feel the deafening
silence bubbling up; ready to fill my days with long periods of unwanted
quiet. I know that I will still have people in the house and the ones
that have gone will return from time to time, each on their own, but it’s
sometimes difficult to remember that when summer begins to fade.
I would never give up the way I work and live, but it is sometimes
hard when your days stop revolving around clocks, getting people to where they
need to be, and you now have to force some discipline and structure into your
life, or else you wind up as T.S. Eliot said, “Measuring your life with coffee
spoons.” In the summer it is easier. I measure my time by when Karen
leaves for work, when the dog wants to be fed, when Meredith gets up, when I
shove boys out of bed, get them to work or on trains; when I feel like a walk
in the afternoon, when it’s time to make dinner for everyone, when certain
radio programs or sports come on, when the sun goes down, when the tribe assembles
at night in the studio, or when I am finally tired and it is time to put my
tools away, to read, and go to sleep.
When summer is over I spend most of my time alone during the day working and I admit I sometimes get lost in it. I have to start setting alarms to remind me to eat and take medicine because there is nothing or anyone there to remind me of what time it is. I print calendars and make lists to keep myself focused, but nevertheless time becomes irrelevant until family returns late in the day, and chaos breaks loose with practices, homework, and all sorts of other distractions outside the house. As the boys have grown and moved into their own spaces, on to their own lives, those distractions are fewer and fewer.
This has been a great summer although it went by so fast it should
be ticketed. We didn’t do anything special this summer, didn’t go anywhere, and
yet we always found ways to enjoy the time. We went on walks together and
played in the backyard. We attended concerts and summer plays. We
went to graduation and birthday parties; we barbecued with friends. I got to meet
and talk with a lot of the neighbors I didn’t know as well, as they walked their
dogs down the sidewalk outside my house. We had a couple of the boys from the
tribe and family from out-of-state stay with us, which along with the people
who just hang out here at night, kept the homestead hopping. We had
visits to and from Ben and Kayla and sometimes we went into the city to visit
them or to the zoo and places with guests. There was a lot of laughter,
moments of joy and a few tears shed. There was pride and exaltation;
there was anger and disappointment, but what summer is complete without those
elements. It is part of the fabric of the thing. In my mind
summer is nothing but a transition from one year to the next.
The middle son made the decision to leave this year. Having established in his mind what his
calling was, he pulled up stakes and embarked on one of the great adventures he
will have in his life. He is living alone in an apartment, and studying books and writing. We won't see him much. I couldn’t be more thrilled that this is the
path that he chose, because I know it is his passion, but I am also biased. His
older brother and sister cried with their mother all of the way home, because although
Iowa City is not that far away, it is not home where we are accustomed to
having him. I did not cry.
My daughter does not like to be hugged or touched unless she initiates it. As a diabetic she is poked and prodded constantly, so I avoid hugging her unless she asks me to. That night as I was walking in on the doorstep she asked me for a hug. We stood for a long time together, holding, under the glaring lights on the porch. I realized that just as she had formed a real loving friendship with her brother, he left. I felt so sad for her.
My daughter does not like to be hugged or touched unless she initiates it. As a diabetic she is poked and prodded constantly, so I avoid hugging her unless she asks me to. That night as I was walking in on the doorstep she asked me for a hug. We stood for a long time together, holding, under the glaring lights on the porch. I realized that just as she had formed a real loving friendship with her brother, he left. I felt so sad for her.
Later that night after Karen, my wife, took the oldest, Ben, home to his apartment in the city, I
stood in my studio, listened to the crickets, and realized that it was unlikely
that it would be as full as it was in the past. I looked at the empty chair he always sat in and I cried. An era had ended. Still,
I thought about how lucky I am that God put me in a place I never imagined
being in, but am so very sure is where I belong. And who knows, perhaps a new generation fueled
by my spirited daughter will move in to take over where another has left. I’m
working towards that.
As summer begins its exit for this year I too am anxious. While
I am ready to embrace the new and see what the next year holds for me, for all
of us, I retain a certain amount of trepidation. I am entering new
territory, where it is me, my wife, and a nearly 17-year-old daughter who I’m just
getting to know as a young woman. I see
a lot of good things on the horizon though. I took Meredith to a job interview today that went very well. We high-fived in the car and chest-bumped on the driveway. We had a wicked, unhealthy meal of fried chicken for dinner. It was glorious. I cling to that joy The mystic scares me a bit. I’m used to doing things the way I have always
done them. Maybe though it is time to dig up some
things and lay down some new roots. Time to change things up somewhat.
The tough thing about being a parent is you watch your children
make up exciting new songs in their lives, and yet to some degree you feel like
your song remains the same. I think the real
challenge is to have a new melody to present to those at home and those that
come home to listen to you play. I like
that challenge.
As we march into autumn in its glory and then push through another
winter, waiting desperately for the renewal and rejuvenation that comes with
spring, I think about a quote I once read. It said something to the
effect that while tans may fade away the memories of our summers never
will. They will be there to inform and lift our spirits the rest of the
year and the rest of our lives, not to be replaced by next year’s summer
memories, but to be built upon. I think that is a good thing to think
about as the blooms leave the moss roses and the ferns brown in the dog days of
this summer as it winds to a close.
The weather won’t quite change
for awhile, and although the dynamic in my postage stamp of the world is changing,
I intend to seriously seize every last moment of this summer I can, and then to
seize every moment of autumn, winter, and spring as well, making and keeping
memories as I go along.
Summer is fading, you can feel it all of the
time, but that doesn’t mean I have to let go of any of it. Memory is there for now. It will always be in
the back of my mind and squarely in front of me, as well as all the new layers that
get added on. I can’t wait to share.
No comments:
Post a Comment