Today is the first official day of Summer. I say first “official day” because it has felt like Summer for some time now here. (Seriously weather, it’s only June. Let’s take it back a bit otherwise we’ll all be dead by August.)
Today also makes A nine months old. This means in three short months it will be two things: The last official day of Summer and her very first birthday.
When I was in school, I fervently looked forward to summer every year. And I always hoped they would be infinite. Summer seemed full of endless potential; you never knew what possibilities were in store. There was something almost magical about it. Even the monotony that eventually developed was exciting. At least it was different. At least there was the option of something else happening.
Now that I am an adult, summer is just like the rest of the year, except hotter. It has lost the magic quality it used to have. It just kind of drones on. I find myself anxiously waiting for the start of fall, which brings cooler weather, cuter clothes, and football.
This year, though, I find myself feeling nostalgic and hoping this summer will pass slowly. It is the last three months of babyhood for my little girl, and at the end of this summer, she will be a toddler, in a completely different phase of her life. It’s a bittersweet feeling, knowing this incredible thing of having a baby is almost over. So here’s to hoping this summer is an infinite one, and maybe full of magic, too.