The Cuters are in limbo. Big Cuter is waiting to hear about a job that would make him happy on all levels. Little Cuter and SIR are squatting in his parents' home, searching for child care, tending to friends at funerals, and feeling unanchored. Fast Eddie and JannyLou have returned from Colorado with laundry and errands and chores galore. Amster is gearing up for two trials, back to back, as her boys adjust to Middle School.
I am in the middle of it all, watching and wondering and unable to help anyone with anything.
My life goes on, basically unchanged. My new session of Humanities Seminars doesn't begin for several weeks. Until then, there is nothing new for me. This, more than anything, connects me to the passage of time. There is no reason to buy new pens and pencils and notebooks. There is no rearranging of activities. There is just more of the same old same old.... and I'm stuck.
It's August. I should be on the beach, toes in the sand, waves lolling me to sleep, sun on my back, iced tea in a cooler under an umbrella beside my extra large Lake Tahoe beach towel. Or, I should be on vacation, my family in tow, the trunk filled with suitcases and snacks and games, me, in the front seat, reading Roald Dahl aloud. How far is it from Marin to San Diego? Exactly as long as it takes to read The Twits.
Those are the memories I have of August. This whole notion of school starting mid-month (and the wrong month, at that) is disconcerting. I should be taking a long walk, feeling the heat and the sluggishness of the end of summer. Instead, everyone is racing around, trying to get where they are going before it's too late.
Isn't it too hot for that?
There's a sense that the political season is heating up; Hillary's emails combined with Bannon's Breitbart sensibilities make that a certainty. But Congress is still on vacation (Did you notice? Why would you? It's not like they've done anything when they've been in session on Capitol Hill.) and our Arizona primary is still a week away. The general election is becoming a more terrifying spectre, and September is still a page away on the calendar.
And here I sit, betwixt and between, wondering what the end of the year will bring, while marveling at the speed with which this summer has gone by.
The days are long, but the years are short. That's never felt truer than right now.