Twisp

By Sally Gracie
    Ah, the  dog days have arrived. Temperatures in the high 90s and Wal-Mart’s back-to-school displays in Omak. I’ll wager that at least one of you parents of young children has said, “They’re ready to go back,” and thought, “I know that I’m ready. One more Saturday swim meet and I’ll....”
    There are the lazy, hazy, crazy days right after school lets out for the summer. “Wow, I have almost three months to do whatever I want,” I’d think to myself as I turned in the keys to my classroom.
    Of course I was kidding myself – no pun intended. While it was true that my boys didn’t have to catch a bus each morning, until they could drive, I was their bus, driving them to swim team, summer lacrosse leagues, or air-conditioned malls or movies. At home I’d have my flower gardens to shape up and a project or two that I’d put off during the school year: a room to paint, a piece of furniture to refinish, a basement to clean out. Those first weeks from mid-June into July were never lazy.
    Then, about the end of July, came the dog days. My kids didn’t seem affected by the dog days. I don’t remember their complaining about being bored. They had plenty of friends right in the neighborhood, a basketball hoop in one driveway, and an open lot for a touch football game two houses down. They enjoyed a network of parents and houses where they could hang out.
    While my kids enjoyed their summer break through the end of July and through August till the minute they got on the bus again, by the end of July, I was always anxious about going back to school. That end-of-summer anxiety must have been laminated to my psyche (by one of those machines in the corner of the library workroom) back in the 1970s or 1980s. Ever since, I recognize the mood when it arrives. I call it The Slump.
    “Slump” is a schlumpy word isn’t it? But it describes the suddenness of the change in my energy level better than the elegant, French word ennui. I’m not “bored,” after all. I’m un-motivated. Maybe I “should” be doing something constructive with my time. But I don’t feel like it.
    After all, once you’re my age and retired, all the options for summer are up to you. You can be “lazy” or “hazy” or “crazy” or all three at once. Others, decades younger, don’t understand, so don’t bother sharing your feelings with them.
    What I should have learned over the years is that you can fight a slump, but you just can’t lick it. Better to give in and do as you please.
    Early this morning, while parents around the valley took kids to the river or the pool, I drove up the hill to visit. I sat on a lounge chair in the shade and read my novel, while my dog followed my daughter-in-law on her morning walk. I watched as my son cleared old bark and rubble from the woodshed to empty it for the new firewood he’s already split from trees he felled.
    Don’t tell anyone, especially younger people, what you haven’t “done” that you could have done instead of doing what you felt like doing. If you do, don’t expect their approval. They may say you need to “keep busy” or “get a hobby.” When the dog days come, allow yourself to slump into a few days of indolence. If you don’t talk about it, no one will be the wiser.