And now, like it does year after year, my summer has come to an end. School starts Monday, and as I greet it with not so open arms, I really have no choice but to face forward and tell my summer goodbye.
But first:
I'm pretty sure I've written in this blog about how much I loved being twelve, but really it's not all of twelve that I loved. It was actually only a few short months, the summer between seventh and eighth grade, that I loved and was almost definitely the best time of my life. With zero responsibility, a small group of super close friends who never left each other's sides for a second, and parents who worked all the time leaving us to do all the typical twelve-year-old stuff we did--you know, typical twelve-year-old stuff like sleeping till noon, watching hair metal videos, listening to tapes loud enough to bother the neighbors, trying to steal my father's car and drinking his Jack Daniels and little bottles of Bacardi in the middle of the day, smoking Marlboro reds that we somehow got the guy at Cumberland Farms to let us buy, sneaking out in the middle of the night, hanging out with much older boys--it's a time of my life I'll probably never top.
But this summer I very nearly did. In fact, I think it's safe to say that this summer, the summer I christened the Summer of Run, was the best time of my entire adult life.
Can I just--
(I can)
The Summer of Run
1. I'll start with the obvious. I ran. Literally, and not in the way everybody says literally now when literally isn't really what they mean. Just about every day, in fact, in almost every state up the East Coast as well as parts of the Midwest. And as you already know, it was the best.
2. I ran. Figuratively, in the sense that I was pretty much constantly having to get things done, things like searching for a hot water heater compatible with an out-of-date fuse box installed barely after I was born, taking sick dogs to the vet, going to my lawyer, going to court, running stupid errands that apparently parents have to run (who knew?) like going to two kids' worth of pediatricians and orthodontists and dermatologists and dentists, driving Griffin all over Fort Lauderdale now that he's in love, shopping at three stupid grocery stores every stupid week, and really any other running around that comes to your mind? It was probably done.
3. I ran. Away from my marriage, away from the man I used to consider my Glenn. Away from that sadness, away from that conflict, away from that life.
4. I ran. To a new life, to a new light. To a new morning every day instead of the constant loop I used to live.
5. I ran. From here to Kansas City, to Boston and back, I went as far as I could as if distance traveled could somehow differentiate me from the girl I used to be, which in a way, it did.
6. I ran. With the new persona I created, the new Kelly I had no choice but to become. I just kept on keeping on. I made my own decisions and was entirely responsible for me, my kids, my house, my dogs, and a whole lot of stuff in between. Did it suck not having someone to help me with the day to day? Fucking duh. Do I care? Okay, well, yeah, maybe I do, maybe a lot of the time it really kinda sucks (it can't all be coffee and hydrangeas, people!).
But I'm pretty sure I'll be all right.
But first:
I'm pretty sure I've written in this blog about how much I loved being twelve, but really it's not all of twelve that I loved. It was actually only a few short months, the summer between seventh and eighth grade, that I loved and was almost definitely the best time of my life. With zero responsibility, a small group of super close friends who never left each other's sides for a second, and parents who worked all the time leaving us to do all the typical twelve-year-old stuff we did--you know, typical twelve-year-old stuff like sleeping till noon, watching hair metal videos, listening to tapes loud enough to bother the neighbors, trying to steal my father's car and drinking his Jack Daniels and little bottles of Bacardi in the middle of the day, smoking Marlboro reds that we somehow got the guy at Cumberland Farms to let us buy, sneaking out in the middle of the night, hanging out with much older boys--it's a time of my life I'll probably never top.
But this summer I very nearly did. In fact, I think it's safe to say that this summer, the summer I christened the Summer of Run, was the best time of my entire adult life.
Can I just--
(I can)
The Summer of Run
1. I'll start with the obvious. I ran. Literally, and not in the way everybody says literally now when literally isn't really what they mean. Just about every day, in fact, in almost every state up the East Coast as well as parts of the Midwest. And as you already know, it was the best.
2. I ran. Figuratively, in the sense that I was pretty much constantly having to get things done, things like searching for a hot water heater compatible with an out-of-date fuse box installed barely after I was born, taking sick dogs to the vet, going to my lawyer, going to court, running stupid errands that apparently parents have to run (who knew?) like going to two kids' worth of pediatricians and orthodontists and dermatologists and dentists, driving Griffin all over Fort Lauderdale now that he's in love, shopping at three stupid grocery stores every stupid week, and really any other running around that comes to your mind? It was probably done.
3. I ran. Away from my marriage, away from the man I used to consider my Glenn. Away from that sadness, away from that conflict, away from that life.
4. I ran. To a new life, to a new light. To a new morning every day instead of the constant loop I used to live.
5. I ran. From here to Kansas City, to Boston and back, I went as far as I could as if distance traveled could somehow differentiate me from the girl I used to be, which in a way, it did.
6. I ran. With the new persona I created, the new Kelly I had no choice but to become. I just kept on keeping on. I made my own decisions and was entirely responsible for me, my kids, my house, my dogs, and a whole lot of stuff in between. Did it suck not having someone to help me with the day to day? Fucking duh. Do I care? Okay, well, yeah, maybe I do, maybe a lot of the time it really kinda sucks (it can't all be coffee and hydrangeas, people!).
But I'm pretty sure I'll be all right.
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