Swimsuit? Check. Goggles? Check. Sleeping bag? Check. Sweatshirt? Um, nope.
As the mist hit the windshield and leaves blew across the road this morning, it quickly became apparent that Big forgot to pack the one thing he really needed to spend the night at my mom’s. His sweatshirt. And once I said it, I realized it had been there all along. June Gloom.
Don’t get me wrong, I love summer—and the onset especially holds all kinds of hope and promise. June signals the beginning of summer concerts in the park, lazy mornings on a blanket in the shade, afternoon splashes in the pool. June invites popsicles on the porch, dinners on the patio, and sleepovers with friends.
What’s not to like?
Well, to be honest, June also signals a barrage of goodbyes. To teachers who have nurtured my kids and me alike. To friendly greetings and knowing glances at school pickup. To everyday faces that we certainly would enjoy seeing, but likely won’t until fall makes its return. To parents who cheered alongside me, and to their kids who played alongside mine—just as we had finally evolved from awkward strangers to beloved teammates. To one-on-one girlie mornings filled with tutus, babydolls, and somersaults. To another wonderful year gone by.
It’s more sweet than bitter, I know, to have had such a great year of people and experiences that it feels this hard to say goodbye. But it’s there. The June Gloom. And I’m so looking forward to a bit more sunshine as we give in to the new rhythm of summer.
(Which, in our case, happens to be taking a bit longer than usual as we nurse Pink and Little back to health after spending their first morning of school-free bliss on the operating table getting their tonsils and adenoids removed…)