TREENA MIELKE / On The Other Side
No matter how much we whined, complained, cried and carried on about it, summer has almost lived its short life in its entirety and is pretty much over.
I feel very saddened by this fact.
What happened to the golf games I had planned?
I really do believe the next golf game, the one waiting to be played, is the one where I will amaze my playing partners and myself with my incredible and most importantly, consistent shots.
And what about one more water ski?
What about one more time to experience the awesome delight of flying across the water while shards of sunlight pierce the churning crystal wake and I weave in and out, not even wiping out for a really, really long time? And when I climb back into the boat, what about the enjoying for one quick moment the pride of hearing the kids say, “Good job, Mom” as they hand me a towel because I can’t stop shivering and they feel cold just by looking at me?
To me, letting myself inch off the side of the boat into water that feels like a million crushed ice cubes and finally doing the flying across the lake thing, is a really fun age defying, exhilarating, exciting and happy experience.
But did it happen even once this year?
My son says one of my failings, which he likes to remind of when we play verbal ping pong, is lack of planning.
“You should have planned to do that, Mom,” he says in that I know better than you tone that children seem to learn by the time they are two. “You should have planned better.”
I appreciate his candor, and mentally remind myself to delve deeper into personal analysis to discover why I always think tomorrow while obligingly stay on hold while I get “today’s’ stuff done.
Meanwhile, I realize the summer of 2011 is soon to be nothing more than a few pages of memories stored in the memory book of my mind and closed tight.
But before I close it tight, I can still recall a few things that did happen in those fleeting, gone in less than a heartbeat, summer days.
I did feel the glorious rush of rapture that comes from cradling a newborn child in my arms, rocking him gently into the nothingness of sweet, sweet slumber. And when he snuggled his little self into the curve of my arm, I discovered, as I knew I would, that, at least for the moment, nothing else in my world was very important at And I did sit on my deck long enough to feel the warm spill of sunshine on my face and watch in the distance, white sailboats idyllic crystal blue water.
I did watch my flowers grow and evolve into such delightful colors and splendor that I am surprised and delighted to see every time I drive into my driveway.
And I did have the privilege of watching a lovely young bride, as delightful as summer itself, say her vows under a blue Alberta sky, on a perfect day hemmed in with all the ingredients for joy; laughter, music, family and finally gentle darkness.
And as I recall all these things that happened in the summer of 2011, things which turned the days of summer into days filled with little moments of ‘awesome’ I really didn’t miss very much at all.
And, even if I don’t get the golf game in or the water skiing adventure doesn’t happen this year, I can be sure of one thing.
Imagination is a wonderful thing!