summer wrap up, long after the fact

it's almost thanksgiving.

to echo just about the entire population's sentiment, 2020 has felt incredibly short, yet insufferably long at the same time. even though summer definitely happened, it still altogether feels like it didn't. and, per usual in the midwest, fall flew by in the blink of an eye.

summer wasn't our typical - we had no chicago beach days, as we couldn't get to the beach. thank goodness for frances (our new car), as she got us to the harbor where we could pretend not to swim when the lifeguards were looking. when they turned away, into the water we went. somehow, the water was much more enticing this year - maybe it was the knowing that what we were doing was "forbidden" that made the water so much more alluring. i think i spent more time swimming this year than in any other year previous to it. we tentatively spent time with a few close friends, mostly at the water. we watched movies and enjoyed a few backyard barbecues.

we went on walks in parks near and far. some of them were cool, and most of them were pretty lame. but we drove all around town with the windows down and the sunroof open, so we didn't care. we listened to podcasts, and jammed out to music, and let frances hold us in our own little world on wheels. at home we endured (and still do, honestly) the endless cycle of cooking and cleaning. we repotted our plants, and i did yoga. we celebrated our first wedding anniversary with a road trip to south dakota in our new car.

we traveled to see my parents for a day when my grandmother passed away and we couldn't be with my family in arizona. we watched home movies, and drank wine out on the deck. we also visited them for rosh hashanah and yom kippur. we live-streamed services and watched with our cups of coffee in our pajamas. we went for a hike and jumped in a lake, and took a car ferry across a river and had the best time.

we visited michigan and alex' family only once - for labor day. we finally got to have our beach day, at the end of summer. i had the distinct honor to man the kitchen for both of my sweet families, cooking up more meals for them than i ever have. i savored the chance to cook for those i love the most. we ate meals out on the deck, and soaked up the sun. we took our niece on a bike ride, and stayed up late talking and playing games. i took a yoga class outside and practiced next to my mother-in-law - we hadn't taken class together in over a year. we went on tons of walks, one of which was moderately perilous. we played tag in the field near where we walked, and pet a the freshest little puppy.

we went to indianapolis to visit alex's childhood friend and his wife, as they got married over the summer and we couldn't be with them to celebrate. we spent most of our time cooking and drinking wine in their sunroom, talking about life and art and food. we drove around the town a little bit, and went on a hike and took some photos. the fall sun was warm, and the foliage was delightful.

when i write it all down, i realized we actually were blessed to do quite a bit during this abnormal season. there were plenty of things that we didn't get to do, but there were so many beautiful moments we got to experience. it's funny, the small moments you remember when nothing "big" happens. and you find that it's easier to identify and savor those small moments when they are happening, because we've almost managed to undo the training that tells us that we need those "big" things in order to be excited about or grateful for an experience. of course, i'm so grateful we did have the chance to travel somewhere new for our wedding anniversary over the summer even though it was weird and a little stressful.

i think one thing that's been the hardest is finding things to look forward to. when your whole world is reduced down to the bare minimum, and every day is barely distinguishable from the next, and it's unsafe to see friends or family, or travel, or go out to eat, you're forced to live in the moment in order to experience any sense of joy or happiness. because there IS no next. you look forward to going for a walk. drinking wine while cooking dinner at the end of a long workday. watching a new movie. cleaning out your closets and reorganizing your house. and you do it all knowing that, at some eventual point in the future, we'll venture back out to visit dear ones near and far. we'll hug and kiss, and savor the time together even more because we know how truly sad it is to go without time together for birthdays, thanksgivings, christmases, holiday weekends. if there's one thing i look forward to most, it's that eventual time. that first hug knowing it's safe. that first time back on a plane. that first concert after all this is over, standing shoulder to shoulder with strangers, all shouting and screaming at the tops of our lungs, sweaty from dancing and stepping on each others' feet. those sweaty hugs after yoga class with favorite teachers and sweet students. cooking dinner with friends. going to a spa and sitting in a hot tub or a sauna with strangers. special dinners at favorite restaurants, the loud din of other diners filling the atmosphere with warmth and communal noise. after so many months, all these experiences we can so vividly remember feel like a fever dream. something from an all together different existence - not something that used to occur regularly.

but with our lives on pause, we can take a moment to reconsider how we mark our time - and evaluate if we want to pick back up those rituals where we left off. do we want to go out to dinner on our birthday, or do we want to cook at home instead? do we want to go on a vacation or cherish our time at home? do we want to give people things as gifts for holidays, or do we want to save that money so we can share an experience together instead? these are certainly all the things i've been considering. once all this is over, how do i make my life feel most meaningful? how am i marking the passage of time in a way that honors it the most? what do i want to do with my time when all these choices once again exist?