This morning I awakened as a girl officially on summer vacation. For most of the last month, I've been crossing off the days to get to this moment. I'm an early riser even when work isn't involved and there is nothing quite like waking up to chirping birds and the realization that there is not a single pressing item on my to-do list. I run at full-speed for most of the school year, aware that I will always have the summer to replenish my reserves. Around mid-May this practice catches up with me and I'm a tired mama. Happily, we've made it to vacation.
Iron-only clothes have been set away. Work-appropriate shoes have been replaced by a mess of flip flops. My stack of to-be-read books has grown perilously high. Now when I look at it I won't feel longing; instead I've a gleeful sense that I've plenty of time to linger an extra hour over a good book. The garden has tiny green tomatoes already and this week I'll have the time to weed and mulch the plants. Morning workouts are back on the calendar. This weekend, T and I plan to make a batch of strawberry jam.
Last night, JT and I went out for our annual end-of-the-year celebratory supper. We talked about the best parts of our year and the things we'd like to do better the next time around. We're both tired and ready for some unscheduled days. With the luxury of summer ahead, I feel like we've won the relaxation lottery.