Summer is waning. Every day now, until the sun sets, jar flies sing their sad serenade in ode to the shrinking corn stalks and withering cucumber vines in the garden. Summer is not over – far from it, but the girls are back to school this week and my new semester starts today. Where did it all go? Except for a few vacation days, it seems I completely missed out. My life has become too busy. For too long, it has been too busy.
As a very young girl, I remember that summer seemed endless. Perhaps it was because calendars and clocks were of little concern unless there was something specific I was looking forward to. Now as an adult heavily entrenched in the rat race of day-to-day survival, Father Time has complete control of my life. Not that I offered it up to him, but maybe it was done without realization or direct intention on my part.
Maybe it was boredom that made summer seem endless, but I don’t remember boredom. My summer was fields of corn and tobacco, green pastures dotted with black cattle and purple ironweed, and giant walnut trees with branches upon branches. I imagined walking between rows of tall corn and fat tobacco plants to the very edge of the Earth, or climbing a grand, old tree until I could touch the clouds. Lost in imagination for hours, the afternoons dimmed into evenings, and then into nights and new mornings.
Those were not the good old days, but more a good state of mind – a mind that had no regard for current events, paying bills, or keeping things orderly. Pretty much, it was just living day-to-day rather than managing life for myself and family. Perhaps that is the key to unlock the shackles that Father Time has put on me – I need to stop managing and start living. Is that even possible?