By: Jennifer Richardson Holt
I heard an analogy the other day that rang very true. This writer described the feeling of that moment when you’re in the last few minutes of a movie or maybe only have one chapter remaining of a novel and you start to worry. There is a certain anxiety that is building within you because you know good and well there aren’t nearly enough minutes or pages for the plotline you have become vested in to resolve in a way that you are happy with. It is a sinking feeling that the ending is very close at hand and it is going to not nearly be what you’re hoping for. For lack of a better description, things this time of year feel that way for me. And I realize that statement probably makes nearly no sense at all without context, so allow me to provide as much.
It’s a time of year when everything feels a bit like the moon. And yet again, I have given you an analogy that is questionable. When I say like the moon, it’s like everything is waxing and waning and I don’t know if I need the still darkness of the new phase or if the brightness of utterly full would be a better bet. And in a way, I feel like whatever I chose, it probably wouldn’t be the moon I wanted. You see, we’re nearing the end of the summer, and most certainly not the literal atmosphere of the season, no, sadly that will be obstinately and miserably camped out here well into October for those of us in my area. But summer is nearing its end because the school will soon be back in session and that is a fact that leaves me with very mixed emotions.
The part of me that likes the stability and predictability of routine enjoys the idea. Not to mention I know my parents, who are absolutely the best grandparents that a granddaughter could ask for, that keep my daughter whilst her father and I work, will not be too upset to have a break. I know they adore their time together, but they are so magnificent at their roles that they are more than happy to let that child run them absolutely ragged. For a girl that loves calmer activities board and card games she sure does still somehow manage to give them the most thorough workouts. So, I am sure that they will get a slight respite though they will still have her for a couple of hopefully slightly less laborious hours until her Daddy picks her up in the afternoons.
And though of course I am glad to know she will be learning and building friendships instead of possibly lamenting her boredom as summertime children are known to do, there is that gnawing in the back of my mind that she will be gone all day doing things that I know can sometimes be difficult. I suppose I had better come to terms with it as I have a good many more years to face this in-between time where I am excited for future adventures but that excitement is shaded a bit with a professionally anxious mother’s heart. I know it will continue to come but knowing how complex the navigation of the road will be has caused me to find myself discreetly watching my daughter’s face and hugging her possibly more tightly than is necessary. Luckily, she humors me and just tells me she loves me more often.
With her starting school it also tells me that the ball has now been pushed off the edge. I know that all the hectic and sometimes chaotic proceedings of the second half of the year are upon us. Things have already been set into motion, and they will not relent until Christmas. And knowing this, in the quiet judgmental corners of my mind, the questions form. Did you give your daughter enough entertainment this summer? Has she had enough fun? Were you certain to make sure she enjoyed her fleeting moments of freedom before she is tossed back into the wild world of friends, and classes, and homework, and fundraisers, and activities, and pep rallies, and all the constant drama that is being a fourth-grade girl?
I doubt myself. I worry if I have given her a good enough summer. This weekend she has one of her best friends over for a pool date. Then next weekend we will go out boating on the lake. That feels to me like a rather fleeting attempt to end things with a bang. I know she probably isn’t taking as many disparaging notes as my conscience is telling me she is. But I am caught in that in-between time when it feels as though the book is about to end and I will not feel resolved. And while it won’t be a sad ending it may well be a far more mediocre one than a reader would enjoy. But as I find moments when I am staring off into space questioning my skills as a parent, my daughter will ask (as she loves to do) if she can hug me to which I give her the same answer (as I love to do) that she always can. And as she flings herself into me full force nearly knocking me down while telling me how much she loves me, I do still wonder about me. But I have some hope. Perhaps a summer full of always available hugs isn’t so bad at least.
Prose and Possibilities 