One Last Summer Saturday

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The crickets are telling me that summer is over and done. It’s time for them to go, they say, and time for you to go back to school and learn, little girl. 

They’ve always told me that. The crickets always sound different when it’s time to start school again. 

For the first time, I’m excited. I’m excited about my job. I’m excited about the classes I’m taking and the books I’ll be reading. I’m excited about the people I”ll meet and the people I’ll see again. I’m excited about how God might choose to use me. I’m excited about being where I am, in the present, in this moment, right now. 

All summer I’ve been dreading the beginning, the return to the routine. It’s the same story from when I small: I never wanted school to start until I arrived at school in a new dress my mother made for me with a backpack full of new school things, ready for adventure and new stories to read. 

I’m the same. Just taller with a different dress size. I’ll show up at my first class with new notebooks and sharpened pencils (because I still believe in the value of a good sharpened pencil). I’ll be bright-eyed and eager to learn things. 

Goodbye, summer. It’s been grand. 

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