Low-hanging clouds obscure the sun this morning and a fine mist lingers in the air. Our geraniums shake off the raindrops from last night's storm, which conveniently descended after our trip downtown to the Rockies game. Two home runs in the first inning last night, hard-hit meteors which descended gracefully toward our cheap seats in the "Rock Pile." The ballgame was a finale to a standard-setting first weekend of summer: yardwork, barbeques, visits with family and friends, our first swim meet.
Without further ceremony or preparation, summer is here. No lunches to make, homework to check, backpacks to fill; we've swapped them for swim bags,towels, goggles and sunscreen. Our mornings are a shuffle of different practices and routine chores flung out of order, bewildered cats galloping up and down the hallways, in shock at the number of people at home. Heads and pillows smell like chlorine, my favorite perfume, and tans will soon start to show strap marks and goggle lines.
Fittingly, my short piece on Swimming has appeared in the June issue of The Sun, in the Reader's Write section. That's a step up from a letter to the Editor and some lengthy distance short of a short story, but a timely stride in the right direction. I'll post the online link when the June issue goes up on the website; in the meantime, I am enjoying my two extra copies of the magazine and a free year's subscription - my first payment.
Time to do some writing while the big kids are a-bed and the little one works out at the pool. I'm desperate to make writing a part of this crazy summer schedule, and we'll see how things unfold.
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