September:  it was the most beautiful of words, he’d always felt, evoking orange-flowers, swallows, and regret.” Alexander Theroux

Just as I get into the swing of the warmth and long days, reduced to-do list, and sanctioned laziness, the beginning of school looms on the horizon.  As much as I think I never want the sultry days of August to end, I start to look forward to the change.  It’s not only because I can’t wait to pawn the children off on unsuspecting, captive teachers—really!  No, there’s something about the quality of the light in the morning, a feeling in the air of expectancy and starting over, and a bittersweet letting go that I adore. New books, pencils, clothes and shoes.  Shopping for things that are kept safely in anticipation of that first, nervous day; the re-setting of life to a familiar, but slightly altered agenda.

I am a person who loves the opportunity to edit and change, who strangely finds joy in cleaning out an attic, filling a dumpster, sweeping the barn clean. I love the catharsis of sad movies, and prefer complex, unpredictable characters and plots.  With my children, I have been given these experiences every year in the weeks before the first day of school.

Now on my last teenager, I am sad that this will no longer be part of my life in a few years.  Since sending my first off over 20 years ago, I have had some tearful first days and others giddy with relief and freedom; days when I stood there blankly, feeling empty as the bus pulled away, and those on which I dropped them off early so I could get on with my chores.  Excitement, photographs, fear, new lunchboxes, scowling adolescents who barely made it out the door.  On the worst day, after I had sent three of them off to college, I sat on the floor, sorting their childhood storybooks and sobbed my guts out.  I never know what to expect.

The younger me sometimes felt the panicked need to have everything bought and organized before the first day (as though the stores would close and no school supplies would be available for the rest of the year.)  It was as though the last half of August was meant to be crossed off the calendar, donated to the gods of anxiety, consumerism and loss.  Summers are too sweet to swish away the last bits in a frenzy of preparations. Yet there are parts of preparing for school, and fall, that are delicious and worth savoring. There is a way to enjoy this transition, without urgency or guilt.

Yes, we need the school supplies.  And there is pleasure in buying a special outfit for the first day, perhaps in getting a haircut.  Those things are all within the range of fun activities–mother and daughter day out.  But do I need to buy her entire autumn and winter wardrobe in one week?  Sit around all of the last week of August fretting over the coming schedule?  Hell no!  I will do the absolute minimum and then sit back.  In a lifetime, how many summers do we all get?  How many sunny long days with blue skies when our children are still home with us? Not enough.

So, for the last two weeks this summer, we will enjoy what we have, practice being in the moment during the time of plenty, warmth and light.  We will do the requisite shopping early, so she has even more time to fondle her new stash of goodies, repeatedly try on the clothes that she’s not yet allowed to wear, experience the pleasure of waiting and preparing.  Play.

Aside from being more pleasant, this may also be a smart way to help children with the transition into a new school year.  Many are anxious about the change to a new school, classmates or grade.  This is a life skill that we can help them with.  I’m a firm believer in modeling the behaviors we’d like to see.  If we respond to our children’s anxiety by upping our own, and filling the weeks before school with nervous activity, guess what they will learn?  If, however, we show them how to sort out what needs doing, prioritize, and act calmly to accomplish those goals, they will get the message that transitions needn’t be scary and all-consuming events. Instead of fueling trepidation, we can sate ourselves and our children with the pleasure of being together,  we can reinforce an inner sense of calm, both of which will surely shore them up better for any coming challenges.

“Summer afternoon–summer afternoon; to me those have always been the most beautiful words in the English language.”  Henry James