Like in most places, the end of Sumer is waking up and pulling the cover up. The cover you've only used to make an otherwise undressed bed all summer. The end of summer is the sun setting earlier through my living room window and less gazpacho. It's also putting a long sleeved onesie pijama on my almost three-month-old for the first time. They were so big; I thought, "he won't wear this until December!" Now HE is so big. 14 pounds of cuddles in the morning.
The end of summer means taking out the blankets, that were gifts, to put in the stroller for evening outings. It's the end of another era of my life, and fall being a new beginning. A new chapter. I now want that coffee hot, and happily welcome a long sleeve after my first summer in the south of Spain. It's also one less season before I can return home to smell the fresh cut grass and morning mist of my parents' houses in Pennsylvania. One less season before my almost three-month-old can meet the red dirt that runs in his veins, and get to know a land that will always embrace him with open arms.
It's the end of summer. The kids are lining up outside the elementary school below my window with goosebumps on their arms, anticipating a new school year and getting a few last wears out of those shorts. They're lining up one by one new backpacks and fresh-faced.
