Know how I first knew the summer was over? The inside of my purse got wet from the rain, and a summer’s worth of wear had frayed the straps. I want to grieve a little bit. For me, this pocketbook represents the summer of 2010. Check out my pictures; you can see it.
At some point in the spring, I paid $12.50 plus tax for this in-your-face girly-girl vinyl hobo catch-all. Hubsy calls it my carry-on bag. He’s right; I wanted a bag big enough to hold my planner book and kindle. This one even has room for a Just-in-case ankle brace. (Long story and I promised I wouldn’t whine in this blog, but my ankles and I have a love/hate thing going on.) Anyway, I’ve done a bi-weekly bounce up and down the Northeast corridor all summer long, and this girl needs to be prepared.
My Dad teased me about the bag, but my 17 year-old sister totally gets it. This is the first conversation-starting pocketbook I’ve ever owned, and it’s hard to miss. Total strangers would stop me and compliment me on how cool it is. I would describe the color as Eighties-Bridesmaid- Blue, lined with a silky print of discreetly feminine accessories and toiletries. I can’t look at this color without smiling, and I don’t think I can completely trust anyone who can.
In early June, I made a wish list of I times I’d hoped to experience in the time I would have off. In the writing of them, the list of wishes became a list of challenges, then a series of plans. And most of those plans actually got executed.
One plan was to begin a writing project. Well, I have this blog to show for that. Two other items on the mini bucket list: cruising Narragansett Bay with Nana and kayaking with Chica. Check and check. I have three wonderful girlfriends in other states whom I never see enough of, which translated to three outings of great food, catching up, and laughing so hard I nearly shot ice tea through my nose. Clean a lot of stuff out of my mother’s basement – I’ll check that one too. Time with each of my parents – well, it wasn’t enough, but again, my disrespect for the time-space continuum gets me every summer. Some quality time with Hubsy, Sonny and Chica. Short, but sweet.
One thing that was different this summer – a tan – I actually let myself tan for the first time in decades. Just SPF 15 and dock time – Chardonnay with Hubsy and his parents – passively soaking in sunshine and browning up.
I had good times with my local girls too – an outing to the Norman Rockwell collections. I got to grill steaks with my brother, eat fish tacos with my sister, girls’ night with Faye and Chica, have lunch at Linda Greenlaw’s table, connect with my sisters-in-law, visit with my older aunts and uncles, walk along Wellfleet with Hubsy.
And I dragged that big blue carry-on to everyone one of those outings, even up Rattlesnake Trail. It’s at my feet even now (at BOS to DCA cruising altitude) as I draft this and soak in the last Chardonnay of the summer.
It was a blessed summer – a summer of wellness, family, friends, great food, art, books, writing and garden tomatoes. A summer when the nest is empty, but the baby birds are flying with humility, skill, and optimism. A summer of challenge and comfort. A summer of gratitude.
A summer of my Eighties-Bridesmaid-Blue purse. I might need to grieve a little now that it’s over.
