Labor Day

This summer was about nothing special, which allowed every little thing to become special. We moved into a new house (our 4th move in two years) that quickly felt like home. Our porch became a gateway to a whole new community, which was the best part of all. I need a community to raise my boys, and for us to feel a part of. I need dinners and brunches that unfold without evites. I could not get enough of watching my boys burst out the screen door with the sunrise, yell out friends names out into the trees...and then, hearing their names yelled back from across the street. “BRUNO! LEO!!” “JACKSON! ASHER!”This summer I spent the most time with my family. Most baseballs thrown. Most trips to the frozen custard stand. Most moments being so happy doing absolutely nothing. We really did nothing this summer. Didn’t travel. Didn’t get caught in traffic. Didn’t pack and unpack. We went to a bunch of Rockies baseball games. Saw Rufus Wainwright after a picnic. Even saw James Taylor, which is kind of embarrassing to admit how much I enjoyed that. Spent alot of time on the incredible farms that are just within reach of our home with the Meadow Lark troupe. Lots of friends visited. Our moms came for great long visits. It rained almost every day for a moment or so. It got greener and greener and in the end the peaches dripped uncontrollably down our chins. We knew Labor Day was coming. School started too early and kind of messed up the timing. The weather pretended to bring fall earlier than it was welcomed. It began getting dark before we closed the curtains at night. Then Labor Day weekend. Bagels and fresh orange juice. Burrata and chicken. The ice cream truck waved down by Jackson. Salmon skewers and grilled peaches with ricotta and pine nuts. Baseball slip and slide. Hoola hoop contests. Baseballs sailing over into Tim’s yard. Laughing so hard at pictures that were impossibly silly. Mostly, it was about making sure our new friends were on board when the heat goes on. That they know the calls out from the porch will only get louder when storm windows come down. Labor Day always makes me melancholy. But the fall is starting out fast this year. Jackson is circling the days on the calendar through next spring he wants to get the lunch at school, then he is circling back to mark everyone’s birthday. Asher is diving off the picnic table into his blue blanket, which is the world’s smallest and most dangerous pool. Stephie and I are as close as we have ever been, which is saying a lot. The window behind our heads is blowing the cool breeze from the mountains over our sleep. Labor Day is like sealing an envelope full of peach pits. That chapter is gone except for the memories. The outdoor pool is closing. The sun streaking across on the porch is slipping away. The mental pictures. Maybe some of the real ones. Tomorrow morning starts early and new. OR, as Styron wrote, “it was not judgement day, only morning. Morning, excellent and fine.”