More than halfway through summer my daughter says, “It went so fast,” and I think of our house, the walls, all they’ve seen: moving in, her second birthday party, bringing home her baby sister, sleepovers, Christmas mornings, music wafting through walls, prom night, the last hug before college. It is a practice–remembering not to quantify, not to measure the time left, the time gone. It’s better we focus on that moment today–on the pier in San Francisco eating bagels, mine with lox and capers, hers with bacon, lettuce, and tomato. The smell of the ocean, the ferry boat foghorns, the tourists comment talle vous-ing at the table next to us. We drove home with the top down–savoring this end of summer, this warm wind, trying not to calculate the dwindling remainders.
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Oooh! So poignant ♥️
Julie these are amazing