Revised: April 22, 2021
Originally Published: June 9, 2016
“Will this be our last summer like this?” my friend asked as we relaxed by the lake one evening, watching our kids frolic in the water. Her 11-year-old was showcasing her swimming skills, practicing her crawl with her dad cheering her on. Meanwhile, her teenager lounged in a beach chair, engrossed in a book. Our 5-year-olds splashed joyfully in the designated kiddie area, while my toddler busily moved sand from a toy bulldozer into a plastic bucket, only to dump it out again.
I replied, “Oh no, there will be plenty more summers like this,” but deep down, I understood her concern. With the teenager heading off to college next year, this might be the last time the 11-year-old prefers swimming with us rather than hanging out with older kids. It’s the final summer the 5-year-olds will stay confined to the kiddie zone—next year, they’ll be venturing out to the floating dock on their own. My toddler, too, will soon be splashing around on his own.
Next summer, the kids will have changed—sure, they’ll still be kids, but everything will feel different. My 2-year-old won’t need to be carried as often, and the days of people cooing over him as a “cute baby” will be behind us. Our 5-year-olds will grow taller and leaner; I can already sense that I’ll need to buy new pants for my tall boy. They might start asking about naughty words or show their first signs of pre-teen moodiness. Perhaps they’ll begin raiding the pantry for snacks instead of asking for help or even resist being tucked in at night.
Next summer, I might find myself being called “Mom” instead of “Mama.” The days of diapers, strollers, and sippy cups could be behind us; our vacations might revolve around the school schedule. A few summers from now, our eldest could choose camp over our beloved lake house trips.
“What if once she starts college,” my friend mused about her teenager, “she wants to spend her summers at home? What if this is the last summer all our kids join us for this vacation?” My friend Mike, who is also preparing to send his only child off to college, remarked, “This is the last summer I’ll have a kid at home.”
Being a parent gives you a unique perspective. You can see what’s on the horizon, almost like having a sixth sense. You know that the older generation will eventually be missing from the dinner table and that the younger generation won’t always fit snugly on your lap. Time marches forward, even during those long, lazy days of July. You realize that this is indeed the last summer exactly like this.
On the final night of our trip, the cicadas’ chorus signaled the summer’s end. My sons were giggling away, even though it was well past their bedtime. They still wanted to share a room, enjoying each other’s company long after the lights went out. Will this be the last summer they find joy in bunking together? The last summer they delight in sparklers or chase fireflies?
Summer is our favorite season, a long stretch of time unencumbered by morning rushes or frantic dinner routines. It’s filled with moments that cause my heart to tighten, a reminder that time is slipping away, like water running through my fingers as my boys grow taller and taller. Soon, they’ll be grown, and my husband and I might find ourselves falling asleep to the cicadas alone.
Parenthood expands your vision; you see the changes coming. You know the dynamics of your family will shift, and time will keep pushing forward, even amidst the beautiful chaos of summer.
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In summary, as we enjoy the fleeting moments of summer, it’s essential to cherish the time we have together, knowing that each season will bring change.