The August Question

It came today, that thought I always have around this time of year: "How much longer until the kids go back to school?"

Don't get me wrong.

It's been a great summer of swimming, visiting, reading and math. We've had good talks and good times together.

But there's this craving I get--and it usually comes sooner than now--for quiet. For the freedom to take a walk, hit the yoga mat, bake honey bread. For writing time.

The lavender is blooming. It will begin to dry out just as the Hibiscus pops. The last reminders that summer is short, that fall is coming.

In many ways, I want to tell autumn to wait. I have so much still to do with the kids. So many places to go, things to teach, stories to read.

But there's a pile of stuff on the front lawn that the kids are "saving" to sell at a garage sale in a couple weeks. Whittled sticks and sanded manzanita branches litter my doorstep.

Inside, there are Legos on the floor of every room. And today I confiscated the sixth pair of scissors from which GI Joe dangled on purple floss.

In five weeks, the Star Wars action figures and nail polish and cups will be exactly where they're supposed to be. And so will the kids and me, I guess.