Summer Can't Wait
I can barely park in my garage.
Electric scooters
encroach on the left.
On my right- a jumble of coolers,
folding chairs and baseball bats.
The riding lawnmower is parked at an odd angle.
A pool bag teeters on top.
Also, something in my pantry stinks.
I have some work to do.
But summer can’t wait.
I spend 3 hours in the car every Tuesday morning.
Running here, then there,
then here and there again.
Four road trips since field day.
A mountain of unpaired socks languishes
on the laundry room counter.
Some mornings I wake up determined.
THIS will be the day
I deep-clean the dishwasher.
But summer can’t wait.
My daughter emerges from the basement
at 10 in the morning
and gives me the report.
“The UV will be 10 today.
Can we please go to the pool?”
Of course I say yes.
Because summer can’t wait.
There are only so many sunny July days in a childhood.
They can’t be wasted.
Anywhere they want to go, I will take them.
The house is a little wild, but it will have to remain untamed.
Because summer can’t wait.
A little mess is just a part of this season
of the year
or of life.
That clump of dog hair on the laundry room floor? A small problem.
Like spiderwebs dangling from high corners
And dusty baseboards.
The to-do list grows longer.
But summer can’t wait.
I’ll make time for roller coasters.
And one more trip to the beach.
I’ll water my garden while they
Scooter at sunset.
And worry about the rest later.
There’s always September.
For baseboards and vacuums
And an organized garage.
The house can wait.
But summer can’t.