Summer is winding down. I hate when this happens.
In an effort to cram absolutely everything into one waning day, a friend and I decide to hit our favorite beach. It's a bit breezy, almost chilly, but we manage to get some sun and enjoy the sand and a little bit of the water. We collect a few beach rocks in our travels (not buckets full like we used to, though), and then take a head up the coast.
Driving up route 1A in Rye, NH, is one view everyone should take in their lifetime. Although the scenery is amazing, the true money shot is coming south again from Rye toward Hampton. There's a curve in the road during the descent that feels like you're flying right off the macadam over the water like a drone. (Sorry - no picture of that because I was driving and didn't want to end up in the briny sea.)
When we return to town, we hit the pool, too, because we are on our dwindling days before schools starts again -- this coming week for my friend and the following week for me. It's cram time . . . that crazy moment when suddenly we realize that our bucket list remains unfulfilled.
The bad part about summer in New England is that it happens way too quickly. The good part about summer in New England is that it occasionally stretches itself into September (sometimes brutally so in schools with no air conditioning) and we are able to stuff a few more afternoons of glory into the calendar before it starts getting pitch-dark and freezing by 4:00 p.m.
Technically, summer doesn't officially end until mid-September, but for teachers every day in August is like Sunday night with that gut-clenching sensation of foreboding weighing us down. The only truly great thing about September is that we start getting paid again (no, teachers do NOT get paid summers). Money from our day jobs make our summers possible, so I'll work my brain to its outer limits just to live to see the end of June next year.
Until then, just know summer is ending, and I hate when it happens, so I'll cram everything I can into the next two weeks. My calendar is full . . . until September 1st . . . then reality bites my arse and the beach will be nothing but a memory. But, a wonderful memory, just the same.
