Summer lives without a schedule. This summer, I have a new schedule, a place to work that is not home. I’m not here to say life is hard. More that I’m here because I miss the blog. To tell you that we really needed two light bulbs for our bathroom. It’s been getting dim in there.

I was so proud to finally get to the specific store I must go to for the buying of these light bulbs. I bought three instead of two; I was being proactive because the third will burn out soon, I bet.

I didn’t accept a bag.

I juggled those bulbs from the store, to the car, out of the car, through the front door, and bam: I broke one light bulb as I finally unloaded them onto the dining room table.

There’s poetry in that. There’s swearing and rephrasing. There’s the full moon affecting everything, there’s random chance, and there’s a broken light bulb to sweep up.

I relish summer. It’s when I can stay up late and be with the girls when they are actually talkative. It’s when we can plan a quick trip to the ocean for a weekend in August. It’s when I sweep the floor and there’s sand from the beach, even though it’s been cloudy. Because in Seattle: we swim in the lake when the sun isn’t shining.

I relish having a new job. I relish having time to tell you that light bulbs break. It’s easier to write about how I re-framed my thoughts about the broken light bulb: swear/I only needed two and I still have two/there’s enough light in the bathroom again/the broken bulb stayed mostly in its box/sweeping is a pleasure. It’s easier to write about the light bulb re frame than re-framing after I’ve misspoken or had a difficult human interaction.

I really don’t have much to say today, except that I hope your summer is going well. And when fall arrives and I miss my kids who are at school, I’ll blog more. This new work schedule will fold into the school schedule and I’ll mourn the loss of summer here. Until then, I’ll try to fill up my brain and body with moments, with a collage of no-schedule summer. I’m burning her sweet light and gorgeous blooms onto the slides that live in my head.