Releasing Summer Expectations

One week. That’s the last bit of my summer before I start cracking open teacher guides and scrawling out lesson plans.

I was going to make homemade jam from the hundreds of pounds of berries I was planning on picking.

I was going to read three novels in Spanish, develop abdominal muscles, and swim in a cold lake on a summer day.

I was going to camp in a yurt, make a pinata with the kids, and call my college friends.

And all we did was move. We packed, tossed, gave away, and lifted everything we own. Now our garage is littered with boxes and random tools. I still can’t find the hole puncher.
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