Okay…it’s not that cold. It’s in the low sixties, but the nasty rain that’s been coming down all day is so fine, it looks like sleety snow falling. I actually did a double take today. C’mon… It’s AUGUST!
This has been the coldest summer I can remember in about fifteen years. Same sort of scenario that year. About two hot weeks, and the rest of the summer cold cold cold. I recall it clearly because those two hottest weeks were the two weeks before I had my son who, by the way, was two weeks late. Then the rest of the summer I had to eschew the cute summery newborn clothes I had and bundle up the kid in fall-type clothes.
He survived to be a sarcastic, mouthy pain in my neck. I survived to ground him. Do you know the most annoying thing about teenagers? They make your mother’s voice and words come out of your mouth—those things I PROMISED I would never say. You know, because I would be SUCH an understanding mother. I’d understand the subtext and angst of the eye roll and, BOY, do I. So I tell my son NOT to roll his eyes at me, and you know what he says? I wasn’t rolling my eyes. I was looking somewhere else.
Yes, so he’s lived through another cold summer. Barely. School starts in nine days, twelve hours and thirty-nine minutes. But, hey, who’s counting?