family life love motherhood parenthood

Summer is ending.

I could feel it – smell it – in the air early this morning, before the sun rose, as I walked through the apartment. The windows were open all night and the cool air blowing in was changing everything.

I actually found myself trying to resist that feeling that the arrival of Fall always gives me. Building energy. Fresh start.

I want to hold onto summer a little longer. I want the girls to keep piling into bed with me in the morning, elbowing me unintentionally and draping their limbs over my body to achieve as much contact as possible. I want the hours together, the sunlight strong and direct. I want to kiss the top of Wren’s head and smell her skin. She still smells like a baby.

This summer has been a good one for our family. It’s had its moments, believe me, but something shifted – slightly – and now we feel like more of a team.

When we left Martha’s Vineyard 9 days ago, we had just driven off the ferry and were discussing what we should do for dinner when Wren got carsick. Everywhere. What followed was a frantic scramble to clean her and the car up in an effort to make the very long drive home bearable. We did this in the parking lot of a Wendy’s in East Wareham, MA. Afterward, somehow, we figured we may as well go inside and eat. The 5 of us sat in the almost empty restaurant, eating our way through burgers and fries, trying to keep Wren from dipping fruit in ketchup, sharing a frosty and policing each other, laughing, as we passed it around the table – “Mommy took TWO bites!!!” Tom smiled at us and said, “Just so you guys know, we’re creating family lore right now.”

That time we ate at Wendy’s after the post-vacation vomit disaster of 2019. The 5 of us, together.

I want more.

The worst part about summer ending is that it’s when you’re the furthest away from next summer. It feels like an impossible distance. 10 more days of summer. 10 more days of slow. 10 more days before everything changes, again.


Leave a Reply