I have this recurring stress dream where my favorite band is playing in town and I don’t know it until it’s almost too late. Sometimes I miss the show, sometimes I barely make it. Sometimes I’m in my underwear. Like you do.
Y’all. I know it’s only November. I know this, but all that does is worry me more about what the next few months will be like.
Who the eff thought leap year was a good idea?
“You know Julius, we really need to get an extra day in every four years or so.”
Today is a day to get my hands in the dirt. To wear out underused muscles as I prepare the earth for the Spring that will come eventually. A day that begs to be spent outside, even when it rains. It’s not a day to worry about the weather tomorrow.
I think about what it feels like to throw open my windows on a warm spring day as I clean, organize, and create. My refrain of “what’s next?!” is full of zeal; the next project, the next task, the next activity all lined up waiting with impatience.
The summer child is running, the summer child is running again.
The summer child is running, the summer child is running again
When you hear the feet and the sound of laughter,
Better step aside for the mayhem after
Here she comes, yeah the summer child is running again.
– Dar Williams