Goodbye, Summer, It's Been Nice

The past couple of weeks have felt like Autumn. The weather's been cooler, rainier, windier, and less humid--and that was even before the hurricane. This weekend, however (although it wasn't particularly cold), chilled me to the bone. That's because, while the main story this weekend was undoubtedly Hurricane Irene, the unspoken story was Summer's End. It's eight o'clock and pitch black out there. And that bums me out.

I've always been ambivalent about the end of summer. Summer is absolutely, without a doubt, my favorite season. Except for the bugs, I love everything about summer--even the humidity. You will never hear me complaining about the weather on a 105-degree day. Yet all good things must come to an end. Back when I was a kid, Autumn meant finally seeing my friends again, new school clothes, and getting back into a routine. I've always liked a certain amount of structure in my life--and I'm also about 50% nerd and loved school--so rather than be sad about saying good-bye to summer, I would happily welcome Autumn's imminent arrival.

That changed when I graduated from college and got a job, because the end of summer no longer represented an exciting transition. Fall's arrival just meant doing the same job day in and day out but with less exposure to sunlight, crappier weather, and no one willing to pay for a new fall wardrobe. That was the only period of my life when I'd get majorly depressed at summer's end. Every August 15th, I'd start stressing out: I hadn't been to the beach enough, or taken enough trips, or visited all the outdoor bars and restaurants I'd wanted to try, or perfected my tan, or, or, or....

But now that I have kids who go back to school each Autumn, my feelings about summer's end have changed once again. Once again I'm not completely unhappy to be saying hello to fall. Sure, I will miss the hot-n-hazy-n-lazy days, wearing flip-flops, relaxing by the pool, trips to the beach, sweet-n-juicy peaches, and having nowhere special to be. But yet the idea of having a few precious hours to myself during the week is utterly intoxicating. My son will be in Kindergarten and my daughter will be in preschool three mornings a week. That only comes to about eight hours of Me Time, but that will surely feel like a lot after the ZERO hours I've had this summer. I'm not complaining--I chose not to sign both my kids up for camp and I don't regret it--but it's been exhausting.

And it's not just me who needs Autumn to arrive. The kids are starting to get at each other's throats. They  are normally about as lovey-dovey as a brother and sister can be, but I've noticed more pushing and "Get away from me!"'s lately. They need space.

Sure, this week is going to be gorgeous--warm and sunny, no rain in sight--but that doesn't change anything. Fall is right around the corner...all the more reason to relish and savor this last week of freedom and unstructured days. I plan on enjoying it.

Summer Breeze, Makes Me Feel Fine

Ahhhh, the beach! There's nothing like it, of course. I can be in the foulest mood, but let me loose on a serene beach for an hour and it's guaranteed I'll return in much better form.

I've been coming to Cape Cod since I was a baby--my uncle bought a place in North Falmouth's Old Silver Beach in 1969, the year I was born. My family spent a week or two there every summer, and many of my fondest memories are from those visits.

I remember the drive down seeming interminable, even though it was only an hour-and-a-half (mere child's play to my kids, who are used to regular five-hour drives to see their grandparents.) "Are we there yet?" is such a cliche, but I distinctly recall driving my parents insane with that query the whole way. Or maybe the parental insanity was due to there being no car seats to prevent me and my brothers from pummeling each other the entire 75 miles, and no in-car DVD player to put a stop to the endless litany of complaints.

Three years ago, my parents bought a to-die-for Cape house, right across the street from the beach. So now it falls on me--the parent with New England roots--to instill in my kids a love of Cape Cod. Not that it's difficult--the Cape pretty much sells itself--but five-hour drives suck no matter how many snacks, DVDs, and Sesame Street CDs I pack. Seven-mile backups leading to the Bourne Bridge don't help, either.

But then we arrive...the cool sea breezes beckon, the warm sand slips between our toes, the waves gently lap at the shore, the sun turns the water into an ocean of glittering jewels...and the memory of the long drive, bridge traffic, moaning children, and crappy fast-food fades away.

Because now we are in Paradise. "Hello, Paradise, I've missed you."