It's hard to believe that in one week, I'll be sitting in a classroom full of my peers, listening to my professors explain how the next eleven weeks will play out. Soon I'll be surrounded by mounds of schoolwork -- papers I'm procrastinating on writing and novels with sticky notes hanging off the pages -- and my free time will dwindle away and become non-existent. In just a few too-short days you'll be gone.

I always have mixed feelings about your arrival, summer. As the spring semester comes to an end and I'm suffering from sleep-deprivation while I push through finals week, I welcome you. I welcome your long warm days, days when I'm given the luxury of sitting around and binge-watching my favorite shows on Netflix. Days when I can spend hours outside reading and playing with my kiddos. Days when I am free of any and all academic responsibilities.

But I am also met with feelings of anxiety and fear of the unknown. I'm never sure what surprises you'll bring with you. Will I spend two-and-a-half months trapped in the confines of my house with my ever-energetic kids? Probably not. Will my oldest get the chance to hang out with friends and spend time away from her two-year-old shadow? Probably. We can plan trips together as a family and enjoy the time we have together, but what about those surprises you bring? The spontaneous unplanned trips to the city? The last-minute texts asking us to join friends and family for a cook-out? You should know how well I handle spontaneity.

Do you remember what happened last summer? You presented me with an unexpected opportunity that has absolutely changed my life. You gave me the chance to meet my dad, to allow him into my life -- into the lives of my children -- and to build a bond and a relationship with him. That relationship has blossomed and strengthened, and this year you've provided me with more chances to get to know him. For that I will always be thankful.

I've started realizing something about summer and the way that I live my life during this time of year. With the fall semester just around the corner, I've found myself mentally preparing; my thoughts have begun to shift away from how I plan to spend the last few days of summer and how I'm going to balance the school semester and my personal life (including all the kids' school and extra-curricular activities). I'm thinking less about whether my daughter is going to spend the day at a friend's house and more about whether or not she's finished her summer homework. My carefree feelings are dissolving into stress and anxiety.

I've spent a lot of my summer break finding myself. Cliché, I know, but it's true. I've taken time to think about the things I like -- the things I really like -- and the things I want in my life, what I want for my future. I've spent a lot of time lounging around the house with the kids, watching movies and repeats of Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood on PBS Kids; I've played outside, allowing myself time to just have fun and be in the moment. I've spent daystalking to my little sister, recalling tales of our childhood and discussing prospects of her future. And I took the time to read, took the time to rekindle my love affair with the written worlds of fiction. I've felt good, maybe close to the best I've felt in a long time, and I don't want to lose that to the overwhelming stress of the school year.

So I've made a decision, a resolution. I refuse to forget what happened this summer. I plan to remember all the crazy adventures I've taken over the last few weeks: the road trips, trips to the library and to the park, lazy days at home, and, most importantly, all the love and laughter that's been shared.

Summer, you have given me endless opportunities, and even though fall is quickly approaching, I want you to know one thing: I eagerly await your arrival, and I am anxious to see what surprises you have in store for me when you return.