From a recent Washington Post:
Late August is the time of sweet surrender.
One learns the fate of the dreams and schemes of late May. Which of the high hopes for summer came to pass, and which fell short? The books successfully read, the miles actually run, the dashed vision of the beach house, the failed experiments in the garden. Now it is time to relish the victories and give up on the rest. . . .
As the garden goes, so goes the summer. Win some, lose some. By late August one knows if the sunsets on the beach were perfect, if any pounds were lost, if One Hundred Years of Solitude was conquered, if the internship yielded a job, if summer camp was fun, if the romance was mere summer love.
The heat burns off illusion. The possibilities of May have narrowed to the realities of late August. . . .
Some people can’t handle the truth. Ask them, “How’s your summer?” and they get this disappointed, faraway look and say, “I’m waiting for it to begin.”
But there is freedom in surrender. That is the blessing of late August, like the rain of April, the flowers of May, the rich mornings of June, the hot nights of July. After so much striving, it’s okay. Results may vary. So what?
Let it go.
Absolutely. As I was IM’ing to a friend yesterday, if I didn’t have one more trip to the beach planned, I’d say it’s time to get out the Christmas lights.