Today we seemed to hopscotch direct to summer. When I left the house this morning, the forsythia in my backyard was showing green, but on this day when temperatures climbed amazingly (and non-humidly) into the 80’s, the yellow burst forth in all its glory.
It felt wonderful to be warm, to feel a breeze that did not chill.
We took a leisurely stroll up and down our block with Molly and Sam after their supper. Molly found a fascinating piece of lilac sidewalk chalk. Sam took an interest in provoking Molly to wrestle. I looked forward to actual summer, when homework will not rule the evening and a walk will not seem hard to schedule.
There was no drawing with chalk for my children today. The Princess set the metronome and practiced her piano. Snowman attempted the glissando that opens Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. I opened more windows, fretted over formatting documents and how to arrange a sermon series.
How is it there were more hours for chalk and hopscotch and bike riding and doll-playing when I was a little girl? Were the days just slower? Did time move differently, more graciously or more stubbornly? Certainly it did not leap from 1 to 10 without touching the squares in between.
On the way to a school play rehearsal, we felt ourselves caught in time, or no time, as traffic halted to allow a train to make its way through town. At every intersection it had passed, we felt its effect. I sat at these same traffic lights taking the boys to nursery school–how long ago?–so long ago. That time seems far away, but my own rides to school, in cars and on this bus or that one, seem strangely near at hand in the warm spring air of evening, as I skip back across my memories to the time when I could hop on one foot so easily.