summerless

Something has been bothering me, and that something is the fact that once one is an adult, apparently summer is no more. It's nice out and all, but I can't really enjoy it, not like I did when I was in school. When I was in school, summer was a big change. It was free of all the I-should-be-doings, and the pace changed completely. Now it's just more of the same. Oh, I've been to the beach. I've been camping. I ride my bike to work. But it's not the same as those few long days after the end of school, before the beginning of a job, when everything is finally, finally done, and all that remains is to start something new.

This is my second grown-up summer, and I don't like it. (I should have had three grown-up summers between college and law school, but for the first one I was working with kids, so the schedule changed for their sake, and for the other two I was in Rwanda, where summer was eternal.) Last year was my first real grown-up summer, but I hardly noticed it because Gone West was all still so new. Now Gone West is familiar, and the forever-sameness of the days brings nostalgia. I wish for a real, slow summer, with lots of long, boring days full of trips to the library and reading on the porch.