Summer Days
They have joyfully scattered their hours like dandelion snow over the landscape of summer - a rosy afternoon here, a sun-dappled morning there - but now they are quietly preparing for their upcoming journey to other hemispheres, other lands - packing up their breezy green minutes a little bit more each day. Already the children are back in school. Already the light is changing.
If you ask them, they will tell you that their time here is as it has always been, but I am doubtful, for the Days of Summer stretched on and on to an invisible end when I was a child. Limitless, meandering days with dreamy picture-book hours, they casually unfurled under cloudless skies and firefly nights. I know they must move at a faster pace today. Or perhaps childhood simply spins atop a different axis, perhaps those days really were longer, those months as a lifetime. Perhaps this is part of the remarkable gift of youth; we are given more time to soak up the wonder of life, drinking in a myriad of magic hours to hold like a heartbeat inside us until we are older and long for the sort of inspiration adulthood cannot provide.
Since my father passed away, I have worn his watch. It is an old Hamilton, with a rectangular face and chocolate leather band, no doubt a bit too big for my wrist. A sweet reminder, this watch speaks to me of days at the beach with Daddy, of all the blessed summer hours from a carefree childhood that now and forever enrich my own well-spring of inspiration. With every slow movement of the second hand, it is as if my father is softly saying....
enjoy it all, enjoy it all.
The Painting above: The Fates - Past, Present and Future
by Egron Sellif Lundgren
They have joyfully scattered their hours like dandelion snow over the landscape of summer - a rosy afternoon here, a sun-dappled morning there - but now they are quietly preparing for their upcoming journey to other hemispheres, other lands - packing up their breezy green minutes a little bit more each day. Already the children are back in school. Already the light is changing.
If you ask them, they will tell you that their time here is as it has always been, but I am doubtful, for the Days of Summer stretched on and on to an invisible end when I was a child. Limitless, meandering days with dreamy picture-book hours, they casually unfurled under cloudless skies and firefly nights. I know they must move at a faster pace today. Or perhaps childhood simply spins atop a different axis, perhaps those days really were longer, those months as a lifetime. Perhaps this is part of the remarkable gift of youth; we are given more time to soak up the wonder of life, drinking in a myriad of magic hours to hold like a heartbeat inside us until we are older and long for the sort of inspiration adulthood cannot provide.
Since my father passed away, I have worn his watch. It is an old Hamilton, with a rectangular face and chocolate leather band, no doubt a bit too big for my wrist. A sweet reminder, this watch speaks to me of days at the beach with Daddy, of all the blessed summer hours from a carefree childhood that now and forever enrich my own well-spring of inspiration. With every slow movement of the second hand, it is as if my father is softly saying....
enjoy it all, enjoy it all.
The Painting above: The Fates - Past, Present and Future
by Egron Sellif Lundgren
