Life like Summer (and a good book) ends

On my second read through the Prodigal Summer, deep in the middle of winter, I began to think that I skipped a chapter or two, particularly as the end came on so quickly. I was so certain that I remembered more to the story that I paged through the entire book, seeking the missed parts.

But that’s all there was.
It was over.
Just like that.

I feel the same way now.

How is summer coming to a close?

I look back at the weeks gone by and still can’t fathom that I have lived a full summer, but here it is: the middle of August (past the middle of August)… leaves turning red, school starting in a week.

Someone has stolen summer! Maybe I can blame it on the schools; or on the tenacious cough my son brought home from camp; or on climate change?

I bet it’s the same with our own endings.

Takes us by surprise.
Comes too soon.

(Even when we see it coming.)


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