Summers past were days flying kites on the windy bay, jumping off the high dive while whispering, “You can do this,” endless nights of vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles, and catching fireflies.
Summers past were rainy days cuddled on the cough watching old movies, creating time capsules, sidewalk chalk, and sugary sweet lemonade stands.
Summers past were perfecting the best chocolate chip cookie, learning to dive into the crisp pool, and searching for toads after playing in the sprinklers.
Summers past were camping in the yard until bedtime, stories on the porch swing, and climbing trees with bare feet and dirty knees.
Summers past were nights playing kickball on the dewy grass, a monopoly game lasting for days, and cookouts with friends.
Summers past filled me up as I counted down the days in the bitter winter until, once again, my children’s smiles and humid air warmed my soul.
But time has moved on.
Children have grown, and summers past are a sweet memory.
Children are not running through the sprinklers but now driving to parties in the woods.
Children are not creating obstacle courses in the yard but are now training for the upcoming fall season.
Children are not asking to hold my hand as they walk on the unsteady jetty but now travel new rocky paths alone with their heads held high.
Time has moved on. My children have grown.
So, for now, memories will linger as I slowly devour my rainbow-sprinkled ice cream cone while gazing at the fireflies dancing in the deep night of the sky.
As I watch this dance, I will say a prayer of thanks for time moving on, children growing, and summers past being a sweet memory, while also being thankful for today and the bounty this summer provides for my soul.
