It arrives like clockwork every year, this feeling of melancholy as summer draws to an end. Next week everyone will be back to school. We'll be up early, packing lunches, filling out forms, and adjusting to new schedules.... and I'm not ready.
The uniforms are washed, and we have fresh pens and paper, but I'd much rather be packing up for another day at the beach.
It was a working summer, and although we tried to plan weekend outings, we didn't get very many items checked off of our summer to-do list. It's disappointing, and adds another layer to blanket of guilt I sometimes feel as a parent. I'm grateful for the years I was able to spend at home with my kids when they were smaller, but oh how I wish I could have had another summer with them.
I'm thankful for a big sister that took her brothers to the city for a museum outing, and a baseball game. And for a big brother that remembered to include his brothers in after-work fishing and golfing.
We had a wonderful weekend in Kentucky, and the boys had a fun cottage weekend with their dad, but I can't help but feel like I failed them somehow because we didn't get to do all the other things that we hoped to accomplish.
So here we are, heading into the last long weekend of the summer, wondering what we can squeeze into these last few days, and wishing that summer could last just a little longer.