Where the Hell did Summer Go?

I wore a hoodie while it was 70 degrees outside today because I’m a shell of my former east coast self. It’s officially happened. I’ve become a SoCal valley girl. My east coast friends would be ashamed of me. Maybe my real spirit animal was Hilary from Fresh Prince all along.

In terms of the weather, “summer” won’t change much here. I’ll be able to go to the pool year around, with the exception of a few weeks in January. But calendar wise, I was just complaining about having to work on Memorial Day the last time I blinked. What the hell happened? I didn’t really realize that summer already came and went until I saw the deluge of “First Day of School” statuses on my Facebook feed. All of a sudden, Labor Day is next week and most regular people are prepping for school and changes in the weather and I just feel totally disconnected with everything these days. I’m sure there’s a middle ground between not having any idea what’s going on outside of my bubble (work, school, wife, core friends, books) and being way too involved in the minutia of hundreds of acquaintances and strangers, but I’m not interested in finding it.

Whatever I’m doing now is making the time fly, so I can’t complain too much. My old duty station (Travis AFB) stresses the 100 Days of Summer theme as a way to increase safety awareness and all kinds of other regulatory military stuff, but what it really does is underscore how short summer essentially is. 100 days? That’s nothing. But at the same time, it can be everything. I wasn’t a father to be 100 days ago. I had no clue how I would ever stop smoking 100 days ago (for the record, I have no idea how the hell I stopped. It just happened. I don’t know. I don’t even wanna know. I’m just grateful.). Finishing school still felt like it was miles away. I thought I would never escape a phone call with Rachel without her bawling 100 days ago.

You just live day to day and you blink and three months have passed and you’re complaining about Macy’s not even waiting until Halloween to start playing their fucking Christmas music. I wonder if parenthood is like that. One day you’re wondering how someone so small can produce such a massive amount of poop, then the next time you pay attention, you’re seeing them off on their first day of school while you’re in denial about that single gray hair in your goatee. I think that’s why I wanted to write this stuff down. If I can’t slow anything down, the least I can do is frame it so I don’t forget about how crazy everything is right now. How does everything and nothing change at the same time?