Home stretch, y’all
To say this summer semester passed by in the blink of an eye would be an understatement. How is it possible for 12 weeks to have felt so agonizing from moment to moment, yet to have somehow happened so quickly?
I’ve had more tests in the last 11 weeks than I could count on fingers and toes. More assignments, papers, research projects, presentations, topics to master, clinical hours to pass. Difficult, soul-crushing topics, such as child abuse, suicide, mental illness, and palliative care for children. It’s been a tough, weighty summer full of learning to care for vulnerable populations. Don’t get me wrong — I would not trade anything for being in school and learning about the career I want so badly. It’s just that, well, this summer was pretty cruel and unusual.
While speaking with my Mom yesterday, she pointed out, gently, “You’ve been in a horrible mood for the past few weeks.” (So gentle.) I was forced to come to terms with the fact that yes, that’s true. I’ve been a bear.
I guess it’s because summer has always been a time in my life for relaxation and repair. It’s been for drinking outside and sitting near bodies of water and getting sandy and reading books and doing nothing for the sake of doing nothing. For watching Sister Wives and So You Think You Can Dance. The exquisite delight of putting your face up to the sun—that’s summer.
This summer has been devoid of many of the things I love, but that’s about to change. Wednesday isn’t just when the summer semester ends, it’s when my summer really begins.
And to think I even had Someone along the way — to distract me with wine and delicious food, to give me back rubs when it got too terrible, and to fill my otherwise clouded brain with puppies and rainbows.
So, Wednesday night, we head to LBI. With a summer playlist blaring, windows down, and the feeling of freedom. Over the next few weeks I’ll be getting sand in my hair and reading at least a three books a week. I have a stack of magazines from the past 12 months to pore over, 16 recipes printed out and dying to be cooked, and a body that aches to swim in the ocean and get sunburned in the weird places I inevitably missed with lotion.
Riggins will be there. Gracie, too. Oh, and those three people I love to death — the Sullivans.
Three.More.Days. Four more tests.
I can do it.