A long, slow week is halfway to its close, but by this time next week I’ll be relaxing with the fam at Callaway Gardens for our annual summer family reunion. Callaway-time always means that summer is at least halfway over (if not more) which is a scary thought. The older I get, the faster it goes and the less I feel like I get done before it’s time to change schedules again.

A loooonngggg time ago (as in, 10 years) summers were very different: school was out, life was an open plain ready and waiting to be explored, time was endless and easily wasted. It didn’t matter the day or the time — it was summer. And then, after what felt like a million weeks of doing anything and everything my young imagination could contrive, the summer would begin to drag. Endless free time became boring, and my naive, unhampered mind was eager to return to school. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still very eager to return to school these days (ie now that I’m *old*) Call it a personal flaw, but I really enjoy the whole striving for excellence and further education thing. Either way, summer is still quite different. I dread the day that summer might lose its magic altogether, its effervescent promises of freedom and carelessness, its spontaneity, warmth and whimsicality.

Conclusion: Guess I’ll have to be a school teacher after all.