The house was chilly and quiet today. We have had a run of company. Our daughter was the last to go. She and Elsie had been here for about ten days. A baby Great Dane with tummy troubles is no fun when you live in Manhattan in a sixth floor walk up. So they came and stayed for a while.
Today they left with boyfriend Dan all in a rush and it was back to just the three of us and all the animals plus one. Benjamin is back on the island for the fishing derby and his Olive is visiting us in the meantime.
You would think a house with four dogs and a cat and a bunch of chickens outside, plus two adults (or what passes for them anyway) and one teenager, would not be particularly quiet. But it was.
The house seemed to sigh when they left as if to ask for some attention of its own. And with the wind blowing, the day seemed just right for the first fire of the season. We piled the logs high and set about washing slipcovers and sweeping floors.
September is a beautiful month but it always feels a little lonesome too. My mother used to say even when I was just a little girl that I got “moony” in September. It is the turning I think. Nostalgia’s door is flung wide open. School busses stopped on the road can do it or the faded flower garden or a bunch of rugs hanging on the fence. We leave behind watermelon and fishing poles and ice cream down by the harbor. We turn instead toward apple crostadas, piles of leaves, and old soft socks.
Supper was comfort food, a hot spicy Stromboli. The dough spent the afternoon rising on the counter and we ate in jammies and robes and picked a movie to watch in the dark in front of the fire. I have these two roommates who I love and who love me back. So come on September I am ready.
It’s amazing. Our September started out with temperatures in the 90s, just like July and August, but somehow it seemed different. Maybe all those yellow school buses did it. Anyway, all of a sudden on Saturday, the temperature dropped 20 degrees, it’s dark in the morning at 6:00 and gets dark in the evening earler and earlier. FALL!
Transitions are hard. and you have been looking back and trying to look forward for a little while now besides.
I love it when my kids go back to school and so I feel a little guilty recognizing how there are a finite number of these summers we will have and wondering when I read you if I am making the most of them.
We all make ourselves feel bad about stuff don’t we?
I hate it when mine go back. Mostly i think about how I should have made more popsicles or let them bring the fireflies in for a night light or maybe this should have been the summer we slept out under the stars. It was the summer we drove to the beach and stopped at every touristy thing we passed along the way. It was also the summer my sweet former mother-in-law died and we pasted old photographs into a great collage. we didn’t do everything but we did a lot.
I don;t want it to be over either.
I love that your kids come and your summers are still rich and full with adult kid love and their pets. I hope mine will keep coming back too.
What’s the secret?