Sunrise, Sunset

The problem with long weekends is that Tuesdays become Mondays and Fridays become Thursdays and I become a complete fool showing up late for meetings on the wrong days. 

Labor Day. 

I want our summer back.  I want to return to the endless rolling days of sun and sleep and snuggling little girls who smell like sand and sunscreen and baby sweat and my shampoo that they use even though they have their own.  I want to hold tight to the sounds of my girls swinging in the back yard, each challenging the other to go higher, each believing they can touch the sky with their outstretched petal-pink toes.  I want to walk the beach a while longer as they run ahead carelessly weaving in and out of the waves.  I want them to come back to me and I want them to fly freely as they grow. 

Addison is in the first grade.  She's in school full days and she eats lunch in the cafeteria.  She can read and do math and almost tell time.  She plays soccer and turns somersaults.  She loves to cook and help with dusting.  Her art teacher tells us she's a natural.  She smiles constantly and keeps hoping for loose teeth.  She hates socks.  She's bouncy.  She's loud.  She's amazing.

Harper is a fifth grader, queen of elementary school.  She loves homework (for now) though she hurries through it.  She loves to help and shop.  She plays clarinet in the band and sings in the chorus.  She plays soccer and basketball.  She brings books to the beach.  She has posters of movie stars on her walls.  She's moody.  She's sensitive.  She's fantastic. 

The mornings are getting cooler.  The seasons are moving forward.  My girls are growing too quickly.  Life is very good.