Saying Goodbye to Summer
By Carolyn Lyon James
My dad loves to tell the story about my first day of kindergarten. He can vividly remember my pink dress and white, lace-edged socks, and he can describe in detail how he watched from the front door as my brothers and I walked away toward school, the boys marching ahead confidently… with me trailing behind, picking flowers and chasing butterflies. Fast-forward 20 years, and I can easily recall, as if it happened yesterday, my own son’s first day of kindergarten. I remember his blue shorts and white tennis shoes, and his hand on my shoulder, reassuring me that he was going to have a great day while I choked back tears. Then he disappeared into the school, smiling and excited to start his new adventure.
As much as each new school year is a beginning, it is also about letting go. Letting go of summer, letting go of long days and short nights, and letting go of our children’s hands so they can start their own journey. I am, by nature, a lover of winter. I yearn for the long nights and short days, the cold, and the deep piles of snow. But even as I eagerly anticipate the first chill of autumn, I am struggling to let go of summer. I love all the bright colors of summer, all the shades of green. I enjoy listening to the birdsong and the thrum of the cicadas. And, most of all, I relish sitting outside on my patio each morning, drinking tea and listening to the chirrup of the crickets before they go into hiding to escape the heat of the day. But even as I breathe in the sweet summer air, I can feel the change, the slight shift in the atmosphere that lets me know summer is coming to a close.
I went to the grocery store yesterday to pick up a few items. While I was there, I saw a lot of parents and kids in the back-to-school area, checking their school lists and putting things in their shopping carts. It was fun to see the excited faces as they picked up new pencils and notebooks, perused all the designer folders, and searched for the perfect box of crayons. I was hit with a wave of nostalgia as I thought about all the years of buying supplies for my own children, and how fun it was to come home, dump all the goodies onto the living room floor, and divvy them up into each child’s backpack. My children are grown now, and while they sometimes need notebooks and pencils for their college courses, it’s not the same thrill as opening the giant box of brand-new crayons.
Even as I resist letting go of summer and the freedom it brings, I have taken small steps toward the coming autumn. I have started going to bed earlier so that I can wake up earlier. I have been buying my own school supplies — pens, pencils, and dry erase markers — and packing them into my work bag. And I have pulled all my work clothes to the front of the closet for easier access. These little rituals help me transition to the new schedule and routine that are about to start. They help me change my focus to what is coming — the excitement of seeing my coworkers after being apart for three months, and the anticipation of greeting returning students and welcoming new students into our classroom. And, most importantly, these rituals help me say goodbye to summer, and hello to the new adventure that awaits me when I walk into the classroom in a few weeks.
