Eve of Summer

It is raining this morning while I write.  Drops tappity tapping on our metal roof and running off like an outdoor shower into the stones that surround our house.  Kids are cozied up in their beds snug under blankets.  One had his light on and was already reading when I tiptoed past their doors and down the stairs.  I put on some tea and sat in a comfy chair to look out at the morning, rain,  and life in this moment, and in a flash I am already on vacation, though the kids won't be out for another week.

Thoughts float in about summer as a dual edged sword of fun activities playing at the beach, looking for frogs, wind in our hair as we skirt across the lake, then of summer as an extendend transition time.  Summer, where too much of a good thing, not enough to do, too much togetherness, can bring down the house.  I reallize conciously my oldest will go to a summer program in July, first time ever, a mixed emotion rises in me.  My mind wanders to my middle child, he'll need lots of social time this year with friends.  Then there's the baby, ummm. . .3 and a half year old.  She is craving play with kids her age right now. Preschool on the horizon just past the summer morning sunrises over the lake.  

I briefly reflect on my need to seize the day, seize this season, this moment.   I am a firm believer in "Don't create problems in my mind that don't yet exist in my life."  I gently push away the thought, the idea of a summer overcast with change.  Instead I enjoy this rainy morning, and waking children on the eve of summer.  I listen to the raspberries and laughter as  the three land in the biggest bed to become fully wakeful creatures together.  I enjoy this fleeting feeling in a snip of time, summer. . family. . .life. . .