Sigh. My end-of-summer blues have kicked in full-force today. They’ve arrived at a moment that no doubt seems premature, but really, everything’s rushing to a close. R. is leaving Friday, ending a fabulous seven-month stretch together. I hit the road on Friday, too, and with the exception of three brief days at home, will basically be on the road until August 23. And that day’s my birthday, and my birthday traditionally marks the end of summer for real, and the start of the run-up to opening day.
This has been, without question, the best summer I’ve ever had. It’s been both relaxing and productive, a combination I rarely manage to achieve. And I’ve gotten to enjoy the payoff of years worth of old work, at long last. I’m looking forward to the fall, to my classes, and to the other work I have ahead of me, but I’m really sorry to see this summer end, for more reasons than one.