It’s taken me awhile to believe that it’s really here, but I think I’ve finally come to terms with it. Staying in bed until ten this morning helped a lot.
The month of April was a whirlwind of classes, work, teaching, exams, and the dread that always accompanies the end of a semester because I tend to make really mediocre grades and feel awful about it. But I knew that my finals would all be over on May 6th and I’d be leaving for Haiti on the 10th. So for all of April and the beginning of May, I stressed and fretted and skipped sleep and didn’t blog and ate lots of unhealthy food and comforted myself with the thought, “If I can just make it to Haiti—if I can just get on the airplane and watch the door shut behind me, I’ll know I’ve survived this semester.”
Well I made it to Haiti and back again. I got on seven airplanes and watched seven doors shut behind me. So I must have survived. I don’t even feel that post-school-year dread, because for the first time since middle school (pathetic, I know), I made all A’s and B’s this semester.
I keep having mini panic attacks and then realizing that finals are over. It blows my mind to think that I’m not slacking; I just really don’t have any papers to write. Sometimes it’s hard for me to just receive a good thing. Psychology buffs, go ahead and have a field day with that. You know you’re going to. But I doubt I’m the only one who pinches themselves when something good happens.
Granted, I still have a wedding to be in less than three weeks from now and a bachelorette party to make happen between now and then. I haven’t even started the blanket I’m crocheting for my cousin’s baby boy who will be arriving in less than a month. I opened up my availability at work to 40 hours a week. There are letters that need writing so I can raise money for a new roof on one of the schools I visited in Haiti. And as thrilled as I am about my grades this past semester, I can’t continue the trend if I don’t get around to signing up for Fall classes. So it’s not as if I’m completely carefree until August. There are still demands for my time.
But I slept until ten this morning. I have a tan. I’m wearing shorts. My bedroom window’s open and I can hear the purr of a lawnmower drifting in on the breeze. I think my arms are bruised enough. No more pinching myself. It must be Summer.