Disillusioned

The calendar says it's summer, and it has been warm outside - my plants have the sun-damaged leaves to prove it. And yet my body, my cells, my very soul - rejects the notion. I am busier now than I was during the "school" year. It doesn't feel like the lazy days of summers of my youth and I must say, it's starting to feel like an angry sliver under my skin. A sore spot that reminds me daily, "You don't get a three month vacation any more."

I should be relaxing. I should be at the pool with the kids. I should be sipping fruity drinks while sitting on my patio listening to the sounds of the evening.

I should be, but I'm not.

Instead, I'm working more hours, tied to the invisible strings of my computer and having to go to the office nearly every day this week. I'm sending international emails, tracking down world-traveling speakers that are in various places around the globe, trying to get details on their upcoming visits to speak to our organization. I'm sending packages across crystal blue oceans and wishing I could fly with them to exotic far off lands. I'm breathing the reprocessed, dust-tinged recycled air-conditioned air of my office and of my home.

What I long to do is spread out a blanket on the grass and read one of the three books sitting on my nightstand. I long to write in my journal. I long to sit in the sun until my skin is burning and then jump in the cold water of our local swimming pool. I want to stroll the stalls of my local farmer's market on Tuesday nights to the sound of the local musicians and the smells of terriaki chicken sizzling on a grill and fresh waffle cones filled with sweet ice cream along Main Street. I want to stand out in the street in front of our house, chatting with neighbors until after dark while our kids play street games in the twilight.

I want to, but right now, it's just not happening.

I get one chance in the next two weeks to make something like this happen. Brad and I have greedily claimed Sunday as a day of rest this week. (That poor guy has been painting a house all week - if anyone deserves a day of rest, it's him.) We are taking the kids to the beach for the day and the agenda is PLAY. I plan on savoring every minute because the calendar tells me it will be awhile before there's another day like that one.

But there is hope, right? It is, after all, only June 30th. Maybe I need to give summer a chance . . .