I can’t go two weeks without publishing anything at all here, so I’ll dip into a ten minute free-write and see where the muse takes me…
My mind runs back to the staff end-of-year lunch this afternoon. Mild summer sun streaming through filmy white curtains that waved gently in the June breeze as 20-something of us talked and laughed and shouted and ate and drank and celebrated the end of a very challenging, yet hopefully satisfying year at our school.
I drank several glasses of white wine. It was delicious. Then I ran home to see my baby. He was delicious, too. The babysitter announced, “He’s crawling faster than ever!” and we paused to admire and clap and cheer for his smooth and coordinated locomotion. He seemed pretty tickled: with himself, with us, with life.
After I put the baby to bed, I tackled some Projects-with-a-capital-P. I spent an hour getting out clothes I need to pack for our summer rental. I spent another hour poring over magazines and cookbooks, slowly constructing my Folder of Dreams. “Folder of Dreams” is the name hubs and I give to the collection of crazy recipes we dream of tackling each summer. Then we head for our rental and get busy cooking and eating, and cooking and eating some more. Well, that’s what we did last summer… And it’s what we plan to do this summer, too. (But, really, summer rental or not, won’t every summer hereafter merit a Folder of Dreams?)
I race into the last minute of my free-write thinking, “This isn’t real writing. How does a ten minute free-write warrant publishing for the world to read?” Well, it jolly well is warranted, because if you must know my mantra for the summer is—yes. Yes to laziness, fun, imprefection, and love. Yes to hesitation, fear, and sadness. Yes to sun, rain, and thunder. Yes is my word for the summer, because there’s really no other way to live, especially in summer when the world feels open and hot and muggy and raw and juicy and fleeting and sweet. The only thing to do is to fling your arms and your heart open, and say—yes.