summer slips away

| August 26, 2012 | 8 Replies

I’ve been carrying the sadness of summer’s end on my shoulders like a shawl I’ll need in winter. More than any other season, summer intimates eternity: the long hours of light, the effortless warmth.

More than any other season, summer seems to slip away before I’m ready.

I gaze at the dying flowers on my way to the beach, trying to remember that they’ll feed the earth in autumn.

flowers in August

At Independence Park, three boys play in the sand. Hamilton & Anderson were toddlers when I taught them two years ago. Their big brother Harrison was a kindergartner. We saw each other when summer began, and I swear they seemed half this size.

I take a picture of the boys so I can return to this moment later, when I might properly feel the beauty of it. My mind is awhirl with plans and concerns, wary of settling itself back into the sturdy arms of routine. The school year is rushing at me full tilt, and I just want to duck.

Ducking is something like a bow, isn’t it? A snippet of Mary Oliver resurfaces in my mind, so I look it up when I get home. It’s from “When I Am Among the Trees” (Thirst).

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
 

Oliver offers us something to aspire to, doesn’t she? Summer, I bow to you. I’ve been your faithful pupil: unscheduled, unhurried, negligent of e-mail.

I look at the photograph of the boys in the sand and think of the kids I’ve taught who are headed off to college. It breaks my heart a little each time I see someone I used to teach. How easy it is to take a child for granted when she’s with you daily, but turn your back and she grows right up.

So I’ll carry my sadness a little longer. Sometimes sadness is another name for gratitude, isn’t it? Children grow and time scurries along, and if we love well, we’ll feel both the sorrow and the joy of this more deeply all the time.

Category: remaining calm, teaching, the seasons

Hannah Lynn Mell

About the Author ()

Hannah Lynn Mell grew up a missionary kid in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii. Now she lives in Rowley, Massachusetts with her exquisitely kind husband David, their plucky three-legged cat Thomas, and a needy-yet-lovable dachshund named Birdie. She's worked with singers since 1998 and loves to help people of all ages free their voices.

Comments (8)

Trackback URL | Comments RSS Feed

  1. lise says:

    Hannah, that was beautiful. What a lovely way to get to school. My new school began as a Montessori. I’ll have a long drive, but friday I took the ocean route – Pacific Coast Highwat. Congratulations on your engagement!

  2. lise says:

    Ps, time does fly. our eldest! Remy, is headin to college in 3 weeks!!
    W

  3. Great to hear from you, Lise! An ocean route to work is the best. I hope your school year is marvelous.

  4. John Rockwell says:

    That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet.

    – Emily Dickinson

  5. Jade says:

    I hope to see you soon, dear one!!

  6. Great delivery. Outstanding arguments. Keep up the amazing work.

  7. Suzanne says:

    I am looking forward to this blog being something that offers goodness to me each time I read it.
    Thank you.

Leave a Reply