The Almost First Day of Summer

Do you remember as a kid, the wildly intoxicating first day of summer? Every day stretching out like an open highway, calling freedom?

I remember the promise of family vacation, the annual PNE trip, the ice cream man, the chlorined splashing at the public pool, Harrison Lake trips, the cool library on long hot afternoons, our unfinished basement where we escaped into otherworlds of dress up and imagination, the hideout under the back stairs where we formed clubs, neighborhood alliances and plotted espionage tactics, the bicycle club, kick the can in the dark...

All those heady thrills of childhood so far removed from where I sit today at the first day of summer... Man, growing up can really mess with life's simple joys, can't it?

I've been battling a growing sense of dread for weeks at the arrival of summer, it happens every year. My internal balance is inevitably challenged with the change in routine, the increase in stimulation & the heat. Summer no longer calls freedom to me, it whispers dark hauntings of not coping, of being overwhelmed, of a choked inner world.

How in the world did this exchange in perspective on summer happen without my consent or even awareness?

***

So this year, I'm rewriting my summer manifesto. I'm honestly not sure where to begin, so I guess that means just beginning in spite of. Today I'm thinking of a few things:

- order is a short lived illusion
- imagination, creating something & new paths of thought are wildly satisfyingly
- and, a decent nights sleep is often the difference between hope and chaos.

That's enough for Day 1, I think. I'm off to find some berries and hit the library...