However, every summer, I am struck with how short it truly is, how fast my kids grow, how few weekends there are to pack in all the joys and adventures and projects and people. I start to panic. When is the time for sitting? When do I get to stare at the horizon?
I will always hate busy.
On Thursday, Carrie and Felix came to visit, and it was restful, which is not how I would describe most of my social activities. It was peaceful and easy, with most of our entertainment provided by two 18 month old boys who spend hours and hours trying to figure each other out. They poke each other's nipples and try to give each other hugs. They accidentally knock each other over and then try to help each other up. All the while, their mothers try to imagine what they are saying to each other and wonder if they both understand.
This morning after a walk to our favorite bakery, they left us.
Now I am back to my struggle: my desire to fill each moment of summer with every sort of wonderful conflicting with my need for listless afternoons sipping lemon water on my porch. I am not sure which way tomorrow will sway.