A letter.

Dear June,

Hi, how are you? I'm conflicted on whether or not it is nice to see you again so soon! June, I confess you snuck up on me and you are acting all bold and brassy about how great you are. You shine your sun early in the morning through our windows, beckoning us out onto the patio to waken the neighbors with our morning squeals and screeches.... you keep the sun going late into the night past the time when the boys should really be sound asleep. The jacaranda blooms sweetly scent the air, the mockingbird calls at all hours through the open bedroom window. You scream at the top of your lungs "Summer is almost here"!

I can't believe there are only 10 days left of First Grade for Owen. And next week is Elliot's last co-op preschool session (for which I have to prepare a lesson plan and organize an end-of school party). And I will be turning some unfortunate number in my late 30's on the last day of the month. And I have a new volunteer job on top of all the other non-reimbursed things I do to keep life going. The irony of my "day job" is that when I do it well no one notices.. This bittersweet invisibility of mothering is frustrating because of course I want the house to run smoothly, but I frequently find myself wondering what would happen if I stopped washing dishes and picking things up off the floor? How long would it take for this house full of boys to notice? Should I let the spirit of you, June, infect my days even more than it already has? And if I let June run rampant now, what on earth would happen in July?

My garden needs tending, my body needs exercise, and the bathroom really really really needs to be cleaned... yet I find myself lured into the June-ness of you as I lounge in the hammock doing crossword puzzles, eating popcorn and watching the boys climb the tree in the backyard and smearing tree sap onto all exposed skin. Is it possible to feel like I am already on vacation in my own life?

June, you are here too soon. But I've waited my whole life for you.

Love,
Lisel