That Summer Magic
Trying to Save What’s Left of This Season
Summer is slipping out of my fingers. It’s going too soon. It’s departing too fast. I must admit, I didn’t have the summer I wanted. As an adult, can anyone have the summer they had when they were kids?
Most of us want to experience that summer nostalgia that we grew up with. The sad part is, the more you force, the more you push it away. Summer is never forced, it’s a feeling and a season combined, full of possibility and magic. The feelings that are experienced are usually on a whim, a relaxing afternoon sipping iced tea on your front porch, or a lazy day at the beach or lake. While we can plan these types of activities, we can’t force the feelings once the activities have taken place. The calm feeling and the breeze you feel enveloping your warm body as you sip on your cold tea, the flavor on your tongue, watching the birds fly by or a child on its bike. It’s in this moment, the feeling of just being here on a hot summer day, is where the magic is. The magic we can’t force.
When we force, we lose. And most of us are sore losers. The ouch we feel when we try to plan, coerce or recreate any memory of a remnant of time is time wasted. It stings knowing you will never get that feeling back, the feeling you long for, the evocation of a day that won’t be repeated. Sure, you can try and find similar things to do to bring that feeling back. But it will never be the same. It will be similar, but in a different way.
Instead of wishing of a time passed, it’s time to create anew. We won’t ever get our childhood summers back, but instead let’s try to experience a new kind of summer. A summer that isn’t fraught with a long to do list or a list of challenges, or places you’ve visited as a kid. I mean, you can still visit places from your childhood, but it’s hard to plan a visit around a childhood memory. You can end up disappointed, especially if things have changed, like many things do.
I remember taking my now husband to a visit of one of my childhood homes, my home along the river. The river when I was a little girl was roaring, loud and swift. To my disappointment, I returned longing to see the large river in its glory, just as I remembered it. Sadly, that wasn’t the case. The river was a trickle at best, slow, lethargic even. I was sad. I was disappointed. My mind and my brain kept on recalling a different river, a different time, wishing it were back. I wanted to show him the roaring river, as I remembered it. To pick up a rock or two and throw it in, squealing at how loud and powerful it is. To feel its mightiness as it splashed at us from below as we crossed the bridge. But that river didn’t exist any longer. It was a different river now.
And say, you did visit a childhood place of memory, and it’s almost the same, your mind will still wander from the past to the present. And it will be hard to stay in the present because all you can think about is your past. You’ll try to make memories in this place, but it’ll be forced and like I said, summer magic can’t be forced.
Instead, let’s make summer what it’s meant to be, easy and fun. Set realistic expectations, or no expectations at all. Continue to visit your childhood places with an open mind and an open heart. Don’t expect it to be the same and be grateful for all that you have experienced in this life. Let’s create a new kind of summer that has ease and flow, flexibility and no force. The magic will soon show itself and new memories will take place.
For the rest of the summer, however short I have, I plan to eat all the watermelon I can get my hands on. I plan to sit on my porch with a cold drink and just watch the breeze blow by. I want to take my family somewhere new, somewhere we have never been before. I want to watch the sunset a dozen times, while the long days are becoming short again. I plan on eating a lot more ice cream cones. Watch my toddler splash around in the water and visit more parks. To sit down and peel an orange and devour it slice by slice. To look up and find retreat under the stars. To lead with my heart and listen to my soul. To slow way down and savor what’s left of summer. To do what feels good, and not chase after a memory. Unhurried. Unforced.
This is where my summer magic will appear.
