Summer, Slowed Down

A longtime friend, exceptional educator, and thoughtful leader, Amy Gage has been part of my journey for years. She writes with honesty, heart, and the kind of perspective that makes you pause, breathe a little deeper, and see your own story in a new way.

It’s officially summertime.  The days are longer, the mornings feel (a little) slower, and for me, it’s about the only time of the year that I allow my brain to slow to a pace where genuine reflection feels possible.  Maybe that is the rhythm of the school year for every educator.  Or maybe that is just me.  Either way, now a few weeks removed from the frenetic hamster wheel that is August through May of my professional life, I find myself finally settling into summer #21 as educator/wife/mom.  And with that settling finally comes the slowing. The great exhale that I only allow in these few short months each year.  And I remember.

I remember the early summers as a classroom teacher, when my two children were small, and wide-eyed, and laughed with that uninhibited joy that only happens when you are little and life is oh-so-simple and sweet.  Those summers were full of library and pool visits, lazy walks to city parks, popsicles and sticky fingers, flip-flops and skinned knees.  August would come, as it always does, and I would feel so ready to return to school (my busy brain can only rest so long, you see).  In these early summers, I remember feeling so grateful that I could have these two lives.  A professional life, that while heavy, felt full, and right, and purposeful (and still does).  And for a couple of months each year, I could hit the pause button and just “be”.  Be mom.  Be a reader.  Be a person who sips coffee slowly in the morning, rather than guzzling it down while racing out the door.  Or a mom who bakes things from scratch, just because.  Okay, I was never really that mom, but it did feel good to try that on for a minute.

In the years since, summers have changed.  The kids grew bigger, and less giggly, and more independent.  Trips to the park were replaced with weekend trips to a ballpark or a court. Pool visits became drop offs, for me anyway.  Honestly, for many years, everything felt like a drop-off or a pick-up, with my summer reading spent waiting in a car for someone to come or go.  Meals most often came courtesy of Casey’s or a concession stand, and during the brief break between (what felt like) bracket game #17 and #194. 

Now, even those moments are a memory.  One child is fully launched into college life, and the other is in that final precious summer before senior year.  Some days, I still feel like that young mom, holding on so tight to the season of life where everything you want, need and feel is so intertwined and anchored to your children that you aren’t sure where one ends and you begin.  Other days, I feel every minute the age of an educator (and wife, and mom) who is in summer #21. Can I be both versions of me at the same time?  I think I am. 

For now, I will be content to just tiptoe into this new summer space, one that is defined by the rhythm that gasp I choose.  What will I choose?  I’m not really sure, but I think it starts with learning to be comfortable with the quiet. To recognize that I can move forward and be still at the same time.  For now, that feels like a big enough ask.   

Here’s to the lessons that only summer can bring.  Those we feel ready for, and those we are not.  Whatever season you find yourself in, may these lazy summer days bring you exactly what you need.

~Amy