The Magic of Summer
Dear Friends,
Well, here we are — the middle of summer. The dog days. The backside. The downhill slide.
I love summer. I always have—and not just because I’m a summer baby with a June birthday. Even as a kid, summer held a sort of magic in my heart. The lack of a steady schedule, walking out of the house in nothing more than a tank top and shorts, waking up late, and staying up later, all of it lends itself to a feeling of wildness and adventure.
There’s a romance to summer with the long, slow nights, and cool morning breezes. When you live in a city like Chicago, summer is when people come alive again after enduring months of frigid temperatures and being pelted by shards of ice we like to call snow to make ourselves feel better. But let’s be real—Chicago snow it not like Hallmark movie snow. It’s not big and fluffy and soft, landing delicately on the tip of your nose like a piece of lace much to the delight of a potential romantic partner.
Oh, no, Friends, snow in Chicago is painful. It’s sharp and nasty, and it stings when it hits you like it’s out for revenge. But I digress . . .
Summer.
This year’s summer magic has looked a little different than usual. The kids are full swing into their own agendas—sports and friends, “Mom, can I?” and “Mom, can you?” So, I find myself over the last few years being the magic maker and not so much the magic taker. Though on rare occasions, those two roles overlap, in a crazy haze-filled Venn diagram of summer bliss.
And though the store aisles are in full bloom with back-to-school supplies, I have to remind myself that there’s still plenty of summer left to make magic with. It may be half over, but I still have half of a summer! It’s all about perspective, right?
All of this is to say — Hi. How are you? I hope you are finding some magic this summer. If not, I hope you are the one making the magic for yourself and those around you. And don’t worry if the magic has been slow-going this season—you’ve still got half a summer left! Plenty of time! A lot can happen in five or six weeks. Just pick up any romcom for proof.
Until next time—Abacadabra, my Friends,
