The sun's in overdrive. Blazing, blasting, relentless. I water my vegetables in our little plot at the new community garden, but my front yard plants are suffering with only their mulch to save them. There only seems to be time to water one thing, and I choose the veggies, dreaming of tomatoes and eggplants and squash that are only now beginning to form, slowly and reluctantly under this oppressive heat.
My summer's in overdrive too. Somehow, Gracie's second round of swimming lessons arrived today-- the "end of summer" session that I've been thinking of as the end of our season. Our Arkansas Virtual Academy supplies are en route via UPS to us, and I still don't have a schoolroom area cleared to put them in. My son's still not pottytrained, and he returns to preschool in just a month. (I really wanted to accomplish this, but we've been running hither and yon all summer. How, exactly, do you provide consistent and leisurely trips to the potty when you're always flying about from one place and activity to another? I'm stumped, and failing on this point.)
Life blazes along. "You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away." I struggle along attempting to provide food, clothing, shelter for my kids and husband... not that well, I might add. But do I provide love? Spiritual growth, depth, honesty? Do they know how much I love them? Do we read enough books, pray enough, laugh enough, look into each other's eyes enough?
How can I possibly be 37, married 13 years, nearly 20 years out of high school? How can Gracie be nearly 33% through her time at home with us?
Amazing. Exhilarating. Also, terrifying.