It's been hot and muggy today in Northern New York. So my cat Flurry and I didn't spend our usual afternoon on the porch. But tonight, as the temperature dipped into the pleasant 60's, I decided the time was right for some fresh air.
I helped Flurry into his two-story "playpen" and eased myself into my wicker chair. A great way to spend Friday on the Fourth of July weekend, I determined, as I ate a dish of maple walnut.
While Flurry eye-tracked the multitude of moths called by the porch light, I was mesmerized by the blinking of white lights as fireflies checked out the lawn, sidewalk and street.
Fireflies. Ever present, it seemed, during the magic of childhood summers : Playing tag and hide and seek way past dusk. No school in the morning so no early bedtimes. Summer was a time of freedom that stretched out before us; its joyful span seemed endless.
These days, however. my friends and I often commiserate. It seems that "once the Fourth of July comes, Labor Day is just around the corner", we tell one another. Thus, we begin mourning the loss of summer in early July.
So, what's with that, anyway? What happened to our just being in the moment and not even considering that it will eventually be over? When did we become so hardened to the fact that all good things do come to an end? And thus begin our anticipatory grief for the wrapping up of summertime soon after it starts?
Well, I don't really have the answer to this. But I do know that I vow right now to not let this jaded outlook ruin my enjoyment of summer this year. No more will I let myself be entrapped by this negative view.
I am choosing to enjoy each day of this blessed season without casting an eye to the progression of dates on the calendar.
As Eckhart Tolle says : The more you are focused on time — past and future — the more you miss The Now, the most precious thing there is.”
