At least, that’s how I see it.
With every day spun by, I see the spool that is my summer mercilessly spinning out the days. The days already grow shorter. I’ve seen the school library, freshly carpeted, waiting to be cleared of the clutter a renovation leaves behind.
I know, too, that my hopes for this season are unmet. Too much chaos, too many wasted moments,moo many tears. Still, what have I gained?
Finally for my forever novel (the one that haunts a writer, taunting it with the flaws, but ceaselessly drawing back into the past), I have a clear knowledge of my antagonist. I’ve rewritten part of The Beast. Perhaps there’s hope.
I also replanted part of my garden, strained my back, took swimming lessons, made jam, and learned a lot about myself in the process. I also watched the first season of FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS.
Yeah. It was a good summer.