accordion

At the start of summer, in June, I felt the days
stretching out before me endlessly.  


Like an accordion, stretched out widely, ready 
to play.


It was a little bit overwhelming really.


And then things started happening.


Days at the pools, summer classes and activities.
trips to New York City, Youth Conference,
Girls Camp, Boys Camp, The Beach.


Days tumbling swiftly past each other.  
And over each other, as if, in a hurry to rush by.
Faster and faster.


I tried to catch my breath before it was gone.


Yet, it just kept going, leaving me breathless.


And before I knew it, not only June, but July
had floated, fled, flurried, flashed, past me.  


Behind. Done. Finished with.


Now August is here, and with it the start
of school and schedules and routines.


The accordion has slammed itself shut as quickly
as it was opened up.


All the music of summer is in between the opening,
and the closing.


Some of it has been beautiful, swift as a downpour,
rushing by with the wind. Imprinted on heart and
mind and soul.  Deep breathes of goodness and joy.


And some of it has been a sad, slow melody 
played out poignantly, etched deeply into 
all our memories.  Melancholy.


And so I march forward toward the inevitable.


And the music plays on.