This weekend, I opened the front door and saw one thing that made me happy: almost no cars parked on my street, and one that made me terribly sad: leaves blowing onto the steps. It might be 90+ degrees outside, but Summer is ending. Or in the immortal words of Jon Snow, Winter is coming.
It’s not even Winter that’s so upsetting, it’s the end of the promise of summer – drinks in the back yard, drinks at the neighborhood joint, cookouts, get-togethers, long lunches with friends, double dates with friends we don’t see nearly enough. Sure there’s the heat, humidity and mosquitoes … but there are the lazy days of summer, too.
And there’s something about Labor Day Weekend that says, Back to school. Even for those of us who don’t go to school.
So where did the summer go? That’s the question I ask every August. Then I dive into a frenzy of trying the newest, hottest, hardest to get into restaurants in DC, squeezing in a long weekend somewhere, getting to a pool, picking crabs, etc. And drinking rose and Corona with lime. And cooking out constantly, enjoying fresh tomatoes and corn, generally pillaging the farmer’s market.
This year, I managed the restaurant frenzy and some of the other items on my list – a solid effort, although not completely successful, of course.
But I also realized why this summer – and year – has passed so quickly. We spent the first five months focused on our poor dog. That was definitely a full time job. Then we – me, G and our surviving pup – each spent the next three months sorting ourselves out and recovering. Well, we’re still doing that. And maybe that’s why this year, I’m even sadder than usual to see Summer end.
Back to school, back to work, back to life. It just won’t be the same.
But is it ever?