The Ghost of Winter Future

Every year I think summer goes too quickly. But this summer is passing with very alarming speed. In July, I asked where June had gone, and it was a sincere question. Now next week is August and BlogHer '11 and the week off I thought was so so far away and then after that the little angel will be back in school, and I'm sitting here staring at the calendar vaguely remembering trips back to Iowa and fireworks and watering plants and a few languid afternoons treading water at the swimming pool and little else -- it's an actual blur.

I sometimes wonder what's happening to my memory.

Clearly the problem is rushing. When I rush, I don't really live in the moment. I started out summer doing a great job of not rushing, but in the ensuing months, life happened and it all went ass over ankles out the window.

I had a dream last night I looked outside and it was sleeting. In my dream, somehow I'd missed my last chance at sailing and biking and Halloween and Labor Day and every fun thing about fall, and I was spitting mad that it was winter. (I hate winter. I try to be more loving toward winter, but it's a really tenuous relationship necessitated by my insistence on staying in the Midwest.)

I woke up angry and blinked and looked outside and realized it was already 88 degrees before 8 am, and I was happy about that. It is mind-meltingly hot, and it has been for weeks, and it will be 100 degrees today and 102 tomorrow and I'm GLAD. It means I didn't miss everything, and I still get to go to BlogHer '11 and then take a week off (blessed, sweet week off, I'll miss you Internet, but I won't be here the week of August 8 because clearly I need to live in the moment away from distractions) and have my end of summer. I still get to experience the evenings when the light turns gold and the air finally starts to cool off and the last few barbeques are enjoyed with friends and their end-of-summer, we-don't-really-tan-anymore glow.

This morning was all Marley's ghost for me. THANK GOD. I almost missed it.