Summer

Art is down.  Kids are gone.  Rooms are clean.  Shoes are off.  Sundress is on.  Immediately, I start to thing of ways to keep myself busy.  Should I go to grad school?  Get a job?  Paint the fence?  Clean the garage?  Take a breath. Relax for a minute.  Because even if I am excited about school being over, I have had a bad run of summers for a long time.  For the first time in a long time, my son is in a good place, I’m starting to be able to think about my parents without feeling like I’m about to fall into a pit of despair, and my body seems to be healing.  But this place of no impending trauma is so foreign for me that I’m having a hard time trusting it.

So instead of thinking about all the things that have colored my summers for the last years–Shayne’s streak of summer low points, my parents’ accident, my illness, I am trying to focus on the things that have made summer great in the past.  I’ve made a list.

The top item is riding my bike.  The best summer of my life was when I was getting up every morning at 5:00 and putting 20-30 miles on my odometer by 7:00.  I saw some amazing things–a sleek mink in the creek on the way up to Red Canyon, a coyote family hunting out by the airport on the highway, a bear drinking from the river.  I rode to Penrose, Florence, Rockvale, Coledale, Pueblo West, and Alamosa.  I remember riding to Cripple Creek and feeling like the hills were a piece of cake.  I was strong and fit.

Music is another good highlight of summer.  Hanging out at B Street Bash with my girlfriends is  always so fun, or bringing lawn chairs and margaritas to the park for the free concerts.  I love going to karaoke with friends and family.  And some of my favorite memories with James are concerts during Fibark and watching Rock Creek Road band at Whitewater.

Gardening used to be something I enjoyed.  When I was a kid, I spent hours in the yard, mostly to be with dad.  I would sit with him as he weeded.  I would pick beans and peas and strawberries.  I would follow him around while he watered and mowed and trimmed.  When I got my own house, I tended the grass, and pulled weeds and planted flowers and tomatoes and raspberries.  I’d have people over for backyard barbecues, proud of my yard.  Somehow, I came to this place of benign neglect about all that stuff. Last summer, I started to reclaim the yard with painting the fence and planting a rose garden.  There is more to do this summer.

My girlfriends have stepped up for sure during all my bad times.  They’ve brought me meals and cleaned my house and my car and listened to me during my tears and my despair, but we used to have fun.  Some of my best summer memories are of hanging out at the pool with Christie and Jill, riding with Maria, watching the cooking channel with Pam, or having lunch with Lora, or Karen, or Tracy.  I hope this summer, I can have more of those moments and no one has to come hug me because they don’t even know what to say.

James has been a rock through all my trauma, but I remember our summers that we hiked to places with crystal clear lakes, night walks with wine and moonlight, waking up slowly, afternoons with nowhere to be.  So much has changed, but not how I feel about him.  I’d like to get back to a place where I can be a partner instead of a damn damsel in distress.

Darian has been robbed of a lot.  Even before my parents died, I spent a few summers trying to keep Shayne alive.  She either was along for the ride, or left alone.  Darian has dealt with all the same things that I have without age or maturity on her side.  There was a time when she and I would go to Farmer’s Market, and hang out at the pool, and paint rocks in the backyard, and read books together.  I hope that this summer, I can have fun with her again.  My time is short, before she graduates and moves away as she so desperately wants.  I don’t want to clip her wings, but I want to make sure she has a reason to want to return, even if it’s only to visit.

My best summer memories are of spending time with my family in the Valley–San Luis, Alamosa, Antonito. I loved hanging in the mountains, eating food cooked over the fire, walking in the streams, fishing in the rivers, listening to the radio at ball games, or sitting around the table until late in the night, laughing and telling stories.  There is something magical about the Dunes at dusk.  I love how the air cools and the sand slips through my fingers while watching the sun go down.  l want to go back and walk the places my father grew up and listen to my uncles tell their stories and let my cousins mother me with their warmth and their love, and their amazing food that brings back my childhood.

My list actually could be go on infinitely.  I haven’t even mentioned my brothers, traveling, my nieces, spending time with James’s family in Wyoming, or afternoon naps.  It’s a good reminder that there are so many amazing things in my life.  I’ve spent a lot of time with the bad.  It’s hard not to not be on guard waiting for the next thing.  But it’s also draining and unhealthy and unproductive.  So even though my go to survival mode is to jump right to busy, to not think, to not feel, to not remember; I’m going to work really hard this summer on taking care of myself and becoming whole and healthy again.  Bring on the peace.