It was a hot and windy day in August of 1973 in my small southern Oregon town, the kind of weather that would’ve kicked the dust up in the streets if they hadn’t been paved. My brother and I rode our bikes to the creek where we spent the greatest part of the day swimming, eating blackberries, and playing with friends. We were too young to have jobs and just old enough to go swimming without our parents, according to at least one of our parents. We returned home in time for dinner and chores, played a little kick-the-can, and slept out on the wrap-around porch of our 1895 house whose upstairs bedrooms were sweltering in the mid-summer heat. This went on for 2 1/2 months of summer, but it felt like 2 1/2 years. Time warped in a stretching-on-forever way, much like the ribbons of country roads that we roamed on our bikes.
When I look back at those years, I realize there’s still a place in me that thinks that’s what summer is and I wonder if others have a particular experience or memory that defines summer. For me it’s blackberries. We spent hours picking blackberries and selling them to our neighbors who put up quart after quart of jam.
My husband associates summer with popsicles. He is like a kid about them. When he wants to feel that summer feeling, he gets a big bag of popsicles and passes them out to the neighbor kids and parents and we all sit around on someone’s lawn under a shady tree and drip our popsicles while we talk and catch up. It’s a beautiful sight, the grinning kids, the calm among the adults, and the togetherness. That’s really what my guy is after, he’s all about the community spirit and togetherness. Popsicles are a beautiful thing, they require no cooking and they can even be homemade. We made them from Kool-Aid when I was a kid, but juice is just as good, likely better.
The point of this blogpost is that expectations of summer and what will happen in summer can be as unrealistic as the expectations we wrap around the winter holidays. We can set ourselves up for unnecessary hurts and troubled hearts. We can end up stressed and in conflict with our husbands and partners.
We don’t have to spend our time that way.
We can relax our idea of what should happen and let happen what will. We can let go of all kinds of things, even when we didn’t know we could. Once we take our emotional energy away from the worry and upset and feeling frustrated, we can turn that energy to the connection and relational thinking that we’d really like to have.
So, you don’t get to the library every day this summer. So, you don’t go on a trip. So, summer consists of the kids playing in the wading pool in the front yard with the dog and the neighbor kids. So, you roast marshmallows with the neighbors instead of going to a movie.
Sometimes I think we think summer is the big trip, the Grand Canyon of adventures. I don’t think that’s true. I think it’s about the scent and taste of blackberries that bring back years of memories that involve brothers and neighbors and riding bikes. I think it’s about the texture and temperature of a popsicle as it melts in your mouth and you recall all the laughter and good times.
Summer is a feeling. It is a moment. Summer holds the greatest potency when it stretches out in front of you forever without a bunch of obligations blocking the way.
I say let your kids get bored. Let them figure out something new to do on their own. Let yourself get a little bit bored. Your brain needs that time as a rest from being filled full of facts and figures that you spend the rest of your days in. Even if you’re working through the summer and the kids are with someone else during the day, use these long evenings to gather for a picnic and see what happens when you’ve all had a chance to slow down. Just changing where you eat your evening meal will change something. We eat most of our summer meals on our front porch or on the back deck. Either way, it feels glamorous because we are outside.
And, of course, we have blackberries for dessert.