It was the longest day and it feels it, in a really good way. At solstice (which, I learned from the
, occurred at 6:51 am) I was running—about one third of the way done. When I got back, the boys were still asleep and Jon was just pouring his first cup of coffee. We actually got to have a conversation—uninterrupted and not about scheduling. No clue what we actually discussed. The boys woke up and ate breakfast. Jon disappeared upstairs to deal with some laundry (go Olin!), and Jules, Kai and I drew pictures and practiced letters, so, so nicely, for what seemed like a long time.
Then it was summer, full-on. I took the boys to
to pick berries. When we got there—after a few wrong turns and a 30-minute drive—it was all picked out. But Eugenie, who runs the farm, pointed us toward the kids' field and offered the boys to pick whatever ripe berries they could find. And so we did: Jules intently seeking the the rare red gems and pressing them into my hand, after he'd bitten them in half, to "taste how sweet"; Kai following behind, with a less-precise, more-dramatic picking style. The place was magical. We watched red-winged black birds zip and dip across the sky in some sort of (mating?) chase. We pointed out how the clouds—the kinds kids draw—hung low just above the tops of the long greenhouses. Then we went into the farm stand and bought two of the few remaining pints of the sweetest, reddest pre-picked berries.
When we got home, the next-door neighbor—six, like Jules—had set up a stand to sell lemonade and homemade (AMAZING) donuts. Eventually, a gang of neighborhood kids assembled next door, and then in our backyard, playing on swings and creating scenarios that involved armor and swords. THIS is what summer had always been to me. With Ange and Dan, Jeff and Steve, Missy and Gina. We had bike races. We played GI Joe. We held an Olympics. (Hello, 1984.) We choreographed outdoor performances (most memorable: Billy Joel's "The Longest Time"). We stayed out all day until our moms called us in for dinner.
For dinner, tonight, we packed it all up for the beach. The crowd there was surprisingly sparse—perhaps because it wasn't hot, just warm, and the water was freezing. Its iciness didn't faze Kai a bit, and not really Jules either. But he preferred to stay in the sand, building volcanos and retaining walls for waterways, combing the beach for sea glass. Jules and I hung along the water (bellies full of quinoa salad and cantaloupe), while Jon and Kai went back up for a second course of hot dogs.
We reconvened for one last hurrah at the playground before getting in the car and driving to Archie's for ice cream. Long. Sweet. Today. Let's keep it coming, summer.