Give me a lingering kiss on the lips, give me a kiss goodbye.
I'll give you back your three sunburns, my carelessness, the ice blue of your community pool in the valley at the foot of the mountain.
I'll give you back my feet propped up lazily on the velvet couch in my grandmother's living room.
Kiss me goodbye for now. For three seasons. Forever.
The princess notebook has arrived, tucked inside the new leopard print backpack. There is no rewinding through July, through learning how to swim, through losing the first tooth. My girl is already in love with her teacher. It's a matter of days before she tells me she wishes her teacher were her mother. (And school doesn't start 'til tomorrow!) So kiss me, Summertime.
One more chilled Chardonnay kiss.
One more old memory of making out in a Mustang.Was it a Mustang, Summertime?
For irreverence. For rebellion. For nonchalance. For talking about making out in a post that mentions the kids! (The heady season has gone to her head!) For waking up with nothing but a painting or collage on the horizon. Creativity rising with the sun.
|(I made that. You should be able to get one at my shop soon.)|
One more for the way my two children slept in 'til 9:30 some mornings, learned to pour their own milk, their cereal into a bowl instead of feeding the floor breakfast, for letting their mom sleep in.
I'll kiss you back.
For sleeping in. For no alarms.
For happy toenails, freshly done with my childhood BFF!
For the saltwater hair.
For the sun-warmed blackberries that painted our fingerprints purple. For their burst on our tongues.
|(The Blackberry-Mobile carrying the berries to safety!)|
For much-needed moments on a foggy coast with more old friends who are such friends they are family.
For a belated birthday Tiki Mousse from the best bakery in my old hometown!
|(I believe this was a Passionfruit Tiki Mousse. They should have just called it Ambrosia, called it heaven. It literally sparkled in the sunlight.)|
For tutu princess sleepovers with giggles spilling over toward midnight.
For the tawny color of my husband's cheeks and forehead and nose, for his worship of the sun, how it sets off the Sedona earth color of his eyes.
Summertime, tell your friend Autumn we are no longer running in the sprinklers in the long dusk.
Bring on the apples and bright red leaves like children's jackets hung in a line. It is time.
|(Celebrating my birthday with my monkeys.)|
I give you this.
One last August kiss.