Summer is here. And immediately I see in you the inner conflict that all humans seem to struggle with. We want more time to ourselves and fewer responsibilities. (We don’t want to go to summer camp–that’s too much like school.) We want nothing to do. Just relaxation. Freedom. And in not too long we become terribly bored and lost.
Retirees do it. Teens do it. Even people on leave do it. This is the story and the glory (and the paradox) of work, my friend. We don’t want responsibilities because they weigh us down, but without them, we feel the weight of a human body that has nothing to anchor it to the present moment.
Just like last year, when I come home, I get special summer attention. You’ve been restless and disappointed with how many of mom’s responsibilities you’ve had to endure. When I leave the room, you grab my arm and say “wait!” (That’s still happening.) Over the weekends, when we walk together, you almost hang on my left arm. You insert yourself into every conversation between mom and me. You are in a searching, needing frame of mind. You and mom are getting into fights more often, usually about the huge collection of crafting flotsam you leave all over the house, because…well, you aren’t really doing nothing.
Another summer…another space-between.