Summer loving

When summer break ended, and I packed off my kids to school with their Food, Inc.-approved lunches and backpacks made in China, I thought the year ahead would be a good one for them. Henry would enter into the sixth grade with a belly full of summer, with a nearly-new school ahead, and many, many more friends to meet. John would soon begin his ascent as the soccer star I suspected he'd be; would out-run his nearest competitor for fastest mile time; would outwit, outlast, and outplay as only he can. And Lina wouldn't be that shy, anxious little Kindergartener, when saying goodbye made her cry and clutch and cling.

Here it is, January already, and all the things I hoped would be true have come true, and then some. Though Henry lost his friend Brian to a new school, they still see one another regularly, and he took a chance on a new friend whom I like. Now he has two friends. Two! And all the headaches we went through at the beginning of the year have settled into predictable routines and an easy rhythm that Henry can groove to. He joined the Ultimate Frisbee team and sure, okay, whatever, he's no frisbee star. But he tried something new, and stuck with it until the end. He kept up his grades despite the triple workload, and learned to trust his teachers enough to ask, "I don't get it. Help me." He even got lost on the bus! (No, I don't care to say more about that.)

John and Lina continue to bask in the glory of a life which comes somewhat easy to them. They're charming children (yes they are!) with personality and pluck, grace and athleticism, and an appreciation for the truly finer things in life like friendships, health, and the music that I like. They sing-song their way through the day, trip skipping the earth, flip flopping into bed at night, able to sleep thanks to the wonders of melatonin.

When they arrive home from school, I've learned how important it is to move away from the computer, put down the phone, clear my mind, and try to enjoy these last few months with my kids. We've made up lots of new verbs together: we pilates, and family meet, and snack. And recently, we mourn, which is a verb as old as time.

Two weeks ago, our swimming instructor, Donna, died after a lengthy illness I knew nothing about. Up until this past summer, she was teaching children aged 4-104 how to be Red Cross-certified swimmers in her backyard pool, assisted by her grandchildren and stepgrandchildren. Every July for the past five years, I and my kids have spent well over three hours each day in that backyard, surrounded by friends whom we don't get to see during the school year. A full month of picnics and playdates, with nothing to do but breathe in the sunshine, or hang out on the blue swing. And now, Donna's gone.

Lina spoke today about the things she remembers about Donna: her funny white hat, her clipboard, the sound of the bell under the water (a clever trick Donna used to get kids to at least put their ear in the water), the hoop she needed to swim through (another neat trick). And John was devastated on the day he found out. This is the same Donna whom he had elevated to Titan status in his first essay this year: she was 95 years old, a former Olympic medalist, and her pool was 10,000 deep. (Inches or feet, I didn't ask.)

I don't have much time left for anything, now, save my family. And I'm going to eat them up until I'm full. Luckily for them, I have a big appetite, and I'm almost never satisfied. Nom, nom, nom. Lofstroms!