My Timehop has been flooded with all of the things I did in the summer of 2013, the summer of 2014, the summer of 2015. Seems I have a habit of listing all of the miles I drove, all of the attractions I saw, all of the classes I took at the end of the summer season. I account for it all annually, especially this weekend, the last before the start of school.
Well, comparatively, I did nothing this summer. Two years ago, I took three writing classes in three different states, attended a baptism 500 miles away, then a wedding 500 miles in the opposite direction, relandscaped my garden, and wrote a book.
This summer, I – um – rode my scooter a bit past Beachwood Mall every day and took a water arthritis class with 15 older women. And – ah – I had my bathtub reglazed.
I did see Nadia Bolz- Weber in Pittsburgh. That was cool, if you are a seminary dork like I am. I also attended six billion discernment task force meetings at my church.
I went to a retreat in a small town on the Canadian edge of Lake Erie and rang up $110 of international data use.
I saw an old college friend and reunited with an old Ronald McDonald House friend. Went to Columbus to check on retirement and back and forth to Ann Arbor a few times. I visited Mitchell’s ice cream a few times – the cool one down in University Circle. Saw the wacky conflagration of people at the RNC.
Had a getaway weekend in…ah…the city you always think of when you think of getaways, Detroit. I took two daytrips to Amish country to photograph barns and eat some pizza. The highlight was a day spend scootering through Lancaster, Pennsylvania. But, mostly, I went to the pool and exercised.
Friends at work went to Alaska, Ireland, California, Montreal, Maine, New Mexico – exotic locales – and I went to Beachwood, 3.2 miles away. Sugarcreek. Columbus and Detroit.
My friends filled up their summers with classes and second jobs and family reunions. I sat on my porch and waited for Fiona to come over. I took pictures of her cowboy boots, always on the wrong feet. And I drank lemonade while I watched my grass turn brown.
And yet, there is always an “and yet” this was one of the best summers of my life. I felt relaxed all of the time, every single minute of every single day (except for driving home from Columbus in a torrential 5 hour storm).
I declined invitations when I wanted to. I accepted offers when I felt drawn to the activity. I slept when I needed to sleep. I ate the food that whispered in my ear. I did nothing out of obligation. Nothing.
And so, for the first time in the longest time, I was blissfully, selfishly, immeasurably self-pleasing. And that, I would argue is an adult accomplishment. It may not seem it to all of you who equate adulating with responsibility, but I just looked up the etymology of adult and it springs from “maturitatem” which means ripeness. Or “goodness” and “timeliness.”
This was a summer I needed to regain and anchor myself to happiness, to a sense of calm and goodness that eluded me all of last school year. So I let myself ripen, grow heavy on the vine. I did nothing but to seek and fill myself with goodness.
And it worked. I have not been this happy and steady in a long time.
So thank you, Summer of 16. You were slow, soft, simple. Just what I needed. I look forward to seeing you again next year. June 2nd, 2017 will come round soon enough – I have already marked my calendar.