Remember that essay you had to write the first day back from summer vacation when you were a kid? This is what I hope I can write in a few months when September rolls around:
That some mornings I started the day in my nightgown on the side porch, in a patch of sun.
That I slept in on weekends, and got up early on weekdays to take a run or to write.
That I perfected the turkey burger; juicy and flavorful with pickles, spicy mustard and tomatoes on the side.
That I pulled out the water logged ping pong table that dips in the center, dusted off the spiders and played ping pong with my kids.
Learned how to grill buttery corn and roll it in basil sugar.
Sautéed shitake mushrooms and peppers and called it dinner.
Got calluses on the bottoms of my feet from going barefoot.
Shoes began to feel foreign.
I stopped taking pills to help me sleep and I started to dream again.
Resisted having a drink every single night and was able to get through that tough hour at the end of the day when all I could think about was the relief that came from that first sip.
Some days I made my bed, some days I didn’t.
My daughters, 17 & 20, fell asleep on the couch with their heads in my lap.
I stroked their eyebrows and watched their eyelashes flutter.
I discovered three ways to make guacamole and we filled the house with music, left the doors open, our skin browned, and we painted our toes.
My girls let me choose a book to read aloud to them, or maybe they read to me.
We all fell asleep listening to each other.
I dreamed of cherry pie, and then I made one.
We went to outdoor concerts under a grove of redwood trees.
I ripped paper. I went wordless.
Could be found in the garden on my haunches. Figured out how to keep the garden alive with barely any water.
Rafted down a river in Idaho with my brother and sisters, their kids, my kids and my mom.
Stopped checking my phone, Facebook, email and tinder every five minutes.
The world went on without me.
I became a living, breathing, heart-beating human being again. I spoke less, listened more.
And forgot who I was, and who I was supposed to be.
And it was good, a very good summer indeed.