Summer Surprised Us This Year

Summer holidays. I wasn’t dreading it.

I waited for it to descend, that feeling of fear, despair, resentment. The end of term drew closer and still it never came.

I knew it would be tough, the fall out of routine, the endless demands and questions, the spectacularly failed food shops.

But there was hope, a feeling that was new to me. And I would even say there was excitement. I felt excited.

We had some ambitious plans. And less paid help than ever before.

We muddled through, some days barely getting out of the house, while other days smashing up life and breaking the sound barrier.

Some days we were treading water, other days we were sailing. But we never sank. Every day was a fresh and new challenge. I don’t think there was a day that ended where I didn’t feel like I’d won.

We camped. Three times!

We even managed to get the camping chairs out and sit in them. We made friends, rather than enemies, of our campsite neighbours!

We holidayed at our same favourite place in Devon, and marvelled at how incrementally easier things were compared to the same activities in past years.

We ate out, as a family, with less drama than ever before, and I found myself enjoying it, not rushing for it to be over.

We had play dates, and despite the many, many unfinished conversations, I also felt so much less of a social zombie than I ever had.

I took both children to places on my own, places that I wouldn’t have dreamt of going to alone this time last year.

Had I learned from previous years and changed my expectations? Had others changed theirs?

Family, friends, with whom it had previously been perilous and painful to hang out despite the most intricately made plans… somehow this year we found some form of harmony.

I believed in myself this summer, but moreover, I believed in him. And he trusted me.

Today he went back to school and this is the first year I’ve been able to say truthfully that I miss him.