The sun had risen just high enough over to water that it was shining into my room, warming the air that had cooled overnight. I opened my eyes, and rolled onto my left side so I could see out the window. The water looked quiet, with only the faintest of ripples. The moored boats were still and empty. I heard the osprey overhead, spotted a lone cormorant gliding and dunking down, and watched the gulls fuss on the sand. “It’s my last day of summer,” I thought to myself, and sighed to nobody, as I pulled back the sheets and reached for my bathrobe. “How,” I wondered, “did 8 weeks pass so quickly?” I could have gone into a funk right then.
As I stood up, raised the shades, and switched off the fan, my mind wandered back through those 8 weeks and forward to the next few. My mental list of summer memories grew as I tiptoed down the stairs. From impromptu dinners with family and friends, to great workouts in cycling classes, to easy Sunday afternoons at the pool, and quiet mornings with my notebook, it has been a good summer. A magical trip through Provence followed by four days in Paris, a few days on the coast in Maine and time, albeit short, here in my family’s summer spot. It has been a good summer.
Today’s my last day of summer. I’m heading with a forever friend to one of my favorite towns nearby for lunch, and hoping for a late afternoon swim before I pack up the car. And as I write this slice, my mind is moving forward to making plans for settling my youngest into her college dorm a week from now, thinking about the start of school for me, and anticipating a fun family wedding early next month.
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