We look forward to summer as a season of gathering – time with friends and family, a slower pace, and the kind of moments that sustain us through the long school year and the darker months. We romanticize it. We picture sweating glasses of lemonade, lazy card games, stacks of unread books finally opened, and long naps in the hammock we hung years ago. This time will be different, we tell ourselves.
We fill the calendar with visits – children, pets, old friends – and convince ourselves it will be the best summer yet. Then July and August arrive, and reality hits. We’re tired, overwhelmed, stepping over damp towels and sandy bathing suits, restocking for the next BBQ as the weeks slip by. The books remain untouched. The hammock sways empty.
