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Writer's picturejillslitwin

Summer Daze

There are many days when I’m sitting in my 4th grade classroom exhausted and overwhelmed – my inbox overflowing and my students misbehaving, paperwork piling and head throbbing. It’s during these moments I fantasize about summer, breaking free from work chains and frolicking in the sun, waves crashing, my daughter laughing. The images we create in our heads are often carefree and beautiful, like those from greeting cards or commercials. And sometimes, in snippets, they become real. Summer time is funner time. We build ice cream cones out of sand and make memories out of baseball games. We relish cuddly naps and screen indulgences. 


And then there’s the behind the scenes. The moments before and after the camera clicking. Because the truth is, while the weather has been heating up for weeks, it wasn’t until yesterday when I finally melted down into a pool of shallow tears, deep worries and real fears. 


Because not only is summer when I spend time with Autumn, it’s also when my thoughts fight for attention. 


I see in my mind, my mom bopping around to VHS tapes of Richard Simmons, and now he’s dead. Why did he have to die? What if my mom dies? My dad? Dog? Daughter? And what if I die…alone?


I temper my anxiety with social media, where I scroll through visuals of a cutting edge environmentally sustainable Swiss resort — pastures, all of them greener — and wonder, as I scoop Cocoa’s litter box —  how is all of this — all of everything — part of the same planet, the same Universe?


Like those moms running Instagram pages with cotton ball paint activities and hidden gem ice cream places. If I don’t do and go, will Autumn have scars? Will they be noticeable? And how many missed sensory bins does it take to equal one college rejection letter? 


And also, similarly, but on a very different note, how are we still one nation, under what Gd, and with which inalienable rights? Because that all seems a bit murky about now. 


And beyond our borders, deep into the race that is human, how do we justify the infinite divide between the Haves and the Have Nots? And on a minuscule scale relatively speaking, how do I convince the kid, the canine and the cat that they are all loved, but just not shown it at the same time?


Then there are friends — So. Many. Friends. — grieving and lonely. Jobless and lonely. Without loss and employed, and still — lonely. Will they pull through? How? When? And what can I do?


And then I remember that I’m still single — of course — but also that I’m married — to my thoughts. And that with marriage comes both better and worse, and so I focus on the former. 


Self reminders that unlike what you tell your students, don’t think too much. That your mind is powerful, and what you emphasize will materialize. That soon enough, you will find yourself back in the routine, back in the workplace, and that, too, will be at times comfortable, others chaotic. You stay open, finding the angel thoughts on one shoulder to combat the devil. You go to Trader Joe’s because yes, you need organic New Zealand cheese, but mostly because it’s predictable and safe. While there, you meet the checker, April, born on 4/22 at 4:22 to Autumn’s 4/21 at 4:21 and you become certain this is a sign. This is the Universe giving you a solid high-five. Confirming that yes, you’ve got this. Encouraging you to forge forward, steer straight, breathe boldly. But mostly to…


Mommy On. 



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