Year after year, mid-August becomes the perfect time to panic. The never-ending stream of "I wish I'd done more this summer" and "I'm pretty sure all I did was sit around" blends with the cicada chirps into one giant, anxiety-inducing, end-of-summer alarm. However, out of all my summers, this one has taught me the importance of lowering my expectations and enjoying the smaller things.
May wasn't too long ago, but looking back I can point out endless examples of unrealistically high summer expectations. My friends and I had a group chat where we'd share our bucket-list ideas for the next three months. I tried building a base tan in moderately sunny, 72-degree weather. My Pinterest feed was suddenly flooded with "Summer Sixteen" boards. I even spent a good two weeks furiously planning a trip to Poland with my dad that I was pretty sure we'd be going on.
Although May was the month where I was dominated by end-of-school excitement, it's last few weeks brought me back to reality. Plans with friends were quickly dissolved by work and distance complications, and it was still too early to lay around at the pool. Then, on a cool, rainy day (which I tried to make up for by taking my sister to the ice cream parlor and movie store), I stopped by my grandma's house to find that she had very suddenly passed away. I didn't anticipate her death or the speeding halt at which summer would stop and everyone crumbled under inexplicable grief and stress. All of my previous encounters with death had come with fair warning.
Summer turned into finding ways to distract myself from pain. The Poland trip was off, and I spent quite a bit of free time helping my family, but I don't feel as if I missed out on anything spectacular. This is truly the first time I have been completely at peace with how my season has panned out. Just this past week, we held a memorial service and week-long reunion in honor of my grandma and great-grandfather (who passed away in February). It has been seven days of about 60 family members figuring out where to stay, what outings to go on, how to grieve and more. Understandably, I haven't had much time to live out my old, incredibly unrealistic summer expectations. I've quietly canceled plans with friends and taken some time off of work. Astoundingly enough, I'm not filled with any fear of missing out.
I go back to school on the 25th. I can't make up my mind about how I feel about it. However, I do know that after the emotional roller coaster that has been these three months, I don't feel obligated to make up for any lack of an extravagant vacation, music festival weekend, camp experience or parties. I am perfectly content with enjoying the small things. I've taken my dad's pickup truck on some long, late-afternoon rides, fallen asleep to Beatles records, watched the sun set from the top of a parking garage, stared at the stars, spent nights at the playground with my little cousins, walked in the rain, made it about halfway through the book I was so desperate to read and sipped tea in bed. Summer '16's last few weeks have been quiet and bittersweet, just as I have needed them to be.
