For some of you, school has already started, and you probably weren’t prepared. For others, like me, school doesn’t start until next week, and we’re overly prepared, backpacks packed, lunch items at the ready.
HELL YES, I’m ready. Ready for the twitch to stop from the stress-induced delusion that summer is all about bathing suits and nature-filled jaunts into the woods.
I keep trying on that laissez-faire state of mind, but it doesn’t seem to fit. It only makes the twitch in my eye grow stronger as I abandon my work to dive into exploring summer with my children, which gives me a strong propensity to drink an entire daily bottle of wine to ignore the pull to ignore the boys and continue to work in my new office in my home.
A Meltdown in Glenwood
The kids aren’t fooled. They see my frustrations and react. We thought it would be fun to spend a day in Glenwood Springs shopping for school supplies and sports equipment. NOT. Last-minute shopping in 100-degree heat is NOT fun. On days like these you hope you don’t run into anybody you know, but of course I always have witnesses who talk for days about seeing Jillian have a meltdown at Moe’s, when in reality it wasn’t me but Tucker, who decided to revert to being two again and cry in line because he couldn’t see the food and therefore couldn’t decide what he wanted for lunch. Suffice it to say he got deeply grounded, with the lifelong punishment of no more fast food restaurants.
The next morning, he stood in my office doorway half naked, his sleep tousled hair and long legs sticking out of his flooded pajama pants with rockets blasting all over them caused me to drop everything and wrap my long bundle up in my arms. Oh how delicious to feel his warm, soft body against my skin and kiss his sleepiness away.
We had moved from Little Elk Creek in Old Snowmass to Elk Run, we weren't on the other side of the tracks but we were most definitely on the other side of the highway. Before Tucker graced my door I was on the phone with my mother, telling her about our new life: all the new kids stopping by to suss us out, the bear who loves our plum tree and stretches to a massive height to reach the sweetest plums I’ve ever tasted. It’s OK though, I told her, I’ll share with our new wild friend; we just have to keep our windows closed lest he find us just as sweet. He also loves moving our toilet from one end of the deck to the other. Why is there a toilet on my deck, you ask? Because Wade ripped it out to fix the leak in our new home, which needs work.
Basalt in the Summertime
As much as I relish getting back to some serious work, I’m more ready to get out in this warm weather and play, hard, before the frost comes. It’s still summer and Basalt has a steadfast grip on it, with temperatures five to seven degrees warmer than where we came from in Old Snowmass. It’s been nice living in the banana belt, where we can sit outside with friends late into the evening as the stars come out and our hurricane candles flicker.
Serious road bikers still cruise through town after the 27-mile round trip up Frying Pan Road to the Ruedi Reservoir dam, while fly fishermen pull up to The Riverside Grill to tell fishing tales over ice-cold beer. Cowboys ride their horses up to the Brick Pony Pub, while across the street yogis release muscles sore from hard playing in the mountains. For a Massachusetts girl, Summer in Basalt is mountain sexy.
Admittedly, as much as I look forward to the kids getting back to a more regimented life, I’ll miss the long, sweet, quiet mornings and the beautiful evening walks into Basalt, our small Western town, where deep green pines soak in the light as we search for boughs to play on and where the sun, especially lately with the haze from the fires, turns into a blazing red ball before sinking below Basalt Mountain, once a shield volcano long ago.
Nevertheless, I’m still going to sing HALLELUJAH that school starts soon. Come on, you know you want to sing it with me, loud and slow, because summer is still here and we still have time to get out and play in it without packing the dog, the kids and the cooler into the car.
Those of you who will miss being with your children day in and day out don’t have to sing out loud; just sing it quietly to yourself, because I know that deep down, whether we admit it or not, we’re all ready for some sanity and some time to ourselves.
And now it’s time to play, and get stuff done. It’s just you, so enjoy.
