Saturday, August 22, 2015

Sunday, August 2, 2015

This summer

We are in a drought here in Charlotte.  Since we moved into our lake house a month ago, the lake has been steadily edging further and further away.  We took the kids kayaking on Friday and it was so hard to get through the knee-high mud to the bathwater-warm water, that it is hard to feel like that venture is worth it right now.


We are happy here in this house.  It has felt like home since the first night I feel asleep next to my huge pane window.  Tonight I sat with Gabe on the back porch, cutting his hair as the sun set and the crickets chirped.  He has had a hard time falling asleep in this new house, even though he loves it too.  So I snipped at his shaggy summer hair and told him about how I grew up somewhere with hardly any trees, and how what trees we had were barely as tall as a one story house.  I always thought that lots of tall trees was the epitome of scenic beauty.  Now I feel so at peace surrounded by our oaks and sweetgums.


It has been an odd summer. Besides the complete upheaval of moving, it was also my first year to send one of my kids off for a week to camp - in the middle of the move actually.  The shift to the teenage years that will bring more camps and youth conferences instead of weeks to schedule out and control as a mom.  

Also in the midst of moving, a shift in my mom's condition. Far beyond not understanding speech, she and my Dad are navigating through the dementia stage of her Primary Progressive Aphasia.  Every day starts afresh with new difficulties and challenges and there very often are no answers.

Then just shortly after, the death of Chad's sweet Grandma Libbie.

Between that, the move, the heartache of intimately watching my mom and dad go through this stage, and the looming adoption questions, I feel off-kilter.  There has been no deliberate and thought-out schedule for the kids like most summers and many things that I have decided to just let go.  It has been the summer of eating out and "Shut Up and Dance with Me." And kid fighting.  Lots of kid fighting.

Sometimes I look out at the lake disappearing and wonder if I should be a little more worried about it.

  It will come back, right?

 I believe it will.  I believe it is just a season.