This piece transported me back to my own childhood... Like yours, the days also stretched before me, agenda-less save for maybe a swimming lesson here or my brother's baseball game there. The unfolding of exploration, adventure, and play was the substance of summer. Our neighborhood gang plunging into the woods next to my house on our bicycles, careening through the trails on secret missions. Scheming with my girls to start a babysitter's club (yes, inspired by the book series) or collecting aluminum cans from neighbors to earn enough money to adopt a whale. Tracking down the boys so we could all play Red Rover or Grey Wolf or Capture the Flag. Running through sprinklers or Slip-n-Slides when the heat got unbearable. Until my mother's unmistakeable whistle pierced through the magic, calling us home for dinner.
Maybe those summers still exist in Woodland Heights in the small, rural Minnesotan town where I grew up. But it feels like a bygone era now, as I map out a complex calculus of summer camps, taekwondo, and swimming lessons to keep my 8-year-old daughter busy so I can still manage to work. I wish I could offer her the childhood summers of my youth... and to reconnect with, as you say, that sense of leeeeesure in our breakneck world of adulting.
This is so gorgeous, Heather. Thank you for sharing!💕And i think part of what we might make peace with is that we can absolutely help our daughters cultivate magic in the midst of life’s fullness, carving out even a few seconds to breathe, or watch a butterfly land on a zinnia, or listen to birdsong.
This piece transported me back to my own childhood... Like yours, the days also stretched before me, agenda-less save for maybe a swimming lesson here or my brother's baseball game there. The unfolding of exploration, adventure, and play was the substance of summer. Our neighborhood gang plunging into the woods next to my house on our bicycles, careening through the trails on secret missions. Scheming with my girls to start a babysitter's club (yes, inspired by the book series) or collecting aluminum cans from neighbors to earn enough money to adopt a whale. Tracking down the boys so we could all play Red Rover or Grey Wolf or Capture the Flag. Running through sprinklers or Slip-n-Slides when the heat got unbearable. Until my mother's unmistakeable whistle pierced through the magic, calling us home for dinner.
Maybe those summers still exist in Woodland Heights in the small, rural Minnesotan town where I grew up. But it feels like a bygone era now, as I map out a complex calculus of summer camps, taekwondo, and swimming lessons to keep my 8-year-old daughter busy so I can still manage to work. I wish I could offer her the childhood summers of my youth... and to reconnect with, as you say, that sense of leeeeesure in our breakneck world of adulting.
This is so gorgeous, Heather. Thank you for sharing!💕And i think part of what we might make peace with is that we can absolutely help our daughters cultivate magic in the midst of life’s fullness, carving out even a few seconds to breathe, or watch a butterfly land on a zinnia, or listen to birdsong.