The posture for May was heads down and knees bent for heavy loads. This last week of school finds me looking up from an appointment book that isn’t bursting out of the margins with the wispy, disconnected thought, “What just happened?”
The spring decorations on the shelves looked weary and a little dusty, so I cleaned and boxed them up. Next March, the same decorations will feel fresh again, and will be a welcome change to close out winter. The reds, whites, and blues are here to replace the pastels, and I have a few new toys to display. I am becoming the kitschy queen. So be it. We survived May, and the ferris wheel seemed an appropriate trophy.
In the high school, teachers turn students loose in the halls early from class, or just let their students play on their smart phones. Tim had one class today where they played Mario Kart. Tomorrow is yearbook day. As I remember, that day seemed so important. It’s the day you hope your friends will write something nice and then you spend a few hours studying each word and comma for meaning, then set the book aside and not look at it again for 30 years. Many of the boys will be unrecognizable in 30 years. The women change less.
Tim and two friends are mowing lawns and landscaping this summer. He will go on Pioneer Trek and a high adventure trip. Mark is going to Scout camp. Richard will camp and camp and camp and fully explore every possibility. I may paint, serve on a jury, and read a biography of George Washington. I may not do any of those things. All I know is that I will meet a lot more people for my church calling and try to remember their names. In the evenings I will turn on the ferris wheel and listen to the children play in the street until their sounds are replaced by the song of crickets and sprinkler systems.
We are ready for the summer treatment.
