We are tennis afternoons, talking to our brother on the phone in Philadelphia, choosing the four headbands we consider pink and purple, being bored, playing with Kate and Gabe, and hosting the soon-to-be fattest woodchuck in town in the backyard. That’s to say, this has been another of those kid-at-home all day, every day weeks—it’s only Wednesday—and the camp packing list is printed and I am distracted by details and neediness and even with a quieter house by one kid, realizing that summer just is… this. Lots changes. Then more changes.
You have to embrace the serendipity of the whole summer thing.
When you do, you reap its utter deliciousness both in sweetness and tartness.
I’d orchestrated a crew to go to Tuesday Market and hear the playful Mister G perform on behalf of his newest CD Bugs. The skies opened. Thunder boomed. Lightning flashed. The crew folded, at home, in town, in Leeds. My eldest’s rehearsal got out early so he made it to the market unexpectedly for the first set and rushed to shelter when the rain poured down. He also was gifted a bowl of Unmi’s delectable gazpacho. Eventually, I walked down on my own only to run into my most awesome goddaughter, who’d just arrived to town for a few days—and is staying with us. So, she got to experience my beloved Tuesday pleasure.
And the fact that for me, the market resembles a receiving line: it’s so friend-packed I can’t really rush it. In the summer, nor should I. I often have to, but it’s way more fun when I can take the time to enjoy the friendliness that abounds there. We made it for the end of the set and I nabbed a couple of Bugs’ CD’s as gifts. I made a phone date with Ben and an email date with Missy. I got some apricots from Sarah, as well as a few other items here and there. Including more gazpacho.
**
On the walk home, I heard about the near close encounter with a bear in Yellowstone and other adventures less harrowing and was amazed by my goddaughter’s poise and grit. Maybe amazed is the wrong word, actually; I wasn’t surprised one bit. I was deeply impressed, am deeply impressed. If not for summer and her moving between Beckett, Montana, and other parts, I might not have gotten to listen to the tale firsthand.
On the phone call from Lucien we heard that our friend, Sam, who’d spent a week with us last summer, held the door open for him at the Haverford College cafeteria, where Sam’s studying computer something and Lucien is playing basketball this week. Lucien was giddy with the small world sweetness.
He described the quick supper he’d helped make before his grandmother’s meeting at the dining room table, and it included artichokes made the way my great-aunt Elizabeth loved ‘em. She lived over a century and she was one of the best people I’ll ever know. Even with a full, full, long, long life, when I think of the planet going onward without her, I feel a pang of bittersweet. I can’t help it.
**
Today’s going to be more of this same. I may be somewhat overwhelmed by all. More so, though, I’m feeling aware of the bounty and feeling gratitude for that.
