res·pite [res-pit] noun, verb, -pit·ed, -pit·ing. noun 1. a delay or cessation for a time, especially of anything distressing or trying; an interval of relief.
School is starting tomorrow. I’m stepping down from one volunteer role and stepping up to another. I have a pre-kindergartener.
Change is in the wind.
Summer has been a chaotic blur of water, sunscreen, bug spray and more laundry than I care to remember. A normal summer, really.
Even as I write, here in sunny California, the whisper of autumn is already in the wind. Like the trees and the flowers know – they just know. The air is sharper tonight – Indian Summer will be here soon enough but for now the leaves are whispering of the cool nights and snappy days that are soon to come.
August, in our world, is just an avalanche ride straight to Christmas.
The family calendar on the wall is filling up with open houses and Back to School nights, Halloween events, who’s coming for Thanksgiving and what day does Christmas break begin?
One big avalanche ride to Christmas.
So when he offered a weekend away, one last hurrah before we buckle down to learning and flag salutes and getting out of the house on time – I jumped up and down in glee.
Four days of just he and me. Four days of no laundry or housework, someone to prepare our meals and make our bed. We woke when we felt like it (I usually felt like it a lot later than he did). We ate when we felt like it. We did pretty much whatever we wanted to – lots of sightseeing, some spectacular stage productions, and amazing food.
It’s been a long time since I was allowed to do whatever I wanted for a time. Strange, to have no one to tend to but myself.
A respite. An interval sigh of relief.
August 22nd may come now and be welcome. I’m ready.