I can't help but harbor a slight bitterness toward the younglings who are wild and free for the summer. As I go to work, the kids are still lying in bed. As I freeze to death in my cubicle, the kids are outside jumping on the trampoline, running through the sprinklers, and playing catch. And as I'm starting to settle down for the night, worn out from a long day of work and obligations, I hear the kids squealing with delight as they run around outside, ecstatic to be out past their normal school-day hours.
For the kids, summer means freedom: freedom from school and homework, freedom from jackets and shoes, freedom from schedules and rules. Even the air smells more free because the sharp bite of spring wind is replaced with the lazy breeze of summer.
For the adults, summer is much the same as the rest of the seasons. It may, in fact, be the worst season of all because the youthful days of summer are no longer ours to claim. If feels so wrong to step into a windowless office building when the world has blessed you with a warm, sunny day. It's such a waste to spend so much of this time of year inside, worrying about other things, when there is grass to smell, birds to listen to, and clouds to look at. It's a shame to read about health IT off a computer monitor inside when I could be reading a young adult novel outside on a hammock.
Of course, there are still lunch breaks, evenings, Saturdays, and holidays/vacations, but the youthful days of summer are gone forever. Never again will I be so free. And that's a bummer.