I have a confession to make. When the year was winding down on my first-grade experience, I was overwrought. I didn’t want it to end. I cried so much that my dad actually took me down to the school where the principal explained that the only school in the summer was for those who had not passed the first time and had to have extra help. I was even willing to attend that, but was gently refused.
Looking back, I don’t think it was my unadulterated love of learning that caused so much trauma, but my subconscious realization that school provided something that I didn’t have at home: a structure. Not being blessed with a large amount of self-discipline, without structure, the summer days merged into one another with very little to show for them.
Things haven’t changed that much, except that I’ve noticed I’m not the only one. Each May, my colleagues and I talk about the accomplishments we plan for the summer: trips, concerts, lunches, writings, paintings, etc. Usually, that’s the last time I see them again until August. (Of course, there is the possibility that they simply don’t like me and aren’t including me in on the fun. But I prefer not to go there.)
In August we meet up again, shake our heads, and say wonderingly, “Where did the summer go?”
I don’t know about anyone else, but here is my problem with summer. I think of it as this huge monolithic idea–that, like Godot, is always coming but never arriving. I don’t get started on things because I “have all summer.” And then without being aware of it, summer is gone.
But this year, I’m trying something new, an idea that I’m guessing started from exasperated mothers of bored children: the Summer Bucket List!
This summer, I’m determined not to let summer pass me by. I’m putting it in writing. And I’m checking off as I go. Wish me luck.
Follow along and create your own summer bucket list!