More summer diaries

+ a LIST for "40-YEAR-OLD SUMMER"

Catch up on Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

Day 11

We celebrate Violet’s birthday at our favourite hotel in the county. As soon as we sit down, the air conditioner starts leaking: a stream of water from the ceiling onto my sister. The waiter moves slowly to help. Perhaps he’s overwhelmed by the options—none of which are classy, although logical (jumping on the table with a napkin to stop the flow!). So he flails around with another glass trying to catch the drips.

Next, my mother breaks her tooth in an olive that was hiding under some salad. That’s two events at one dinner. Remarkably I still feel relaxed for the entire meal, especially when I put my sleeve in the meringue. Violet says it’s my covert act to steal the biggest piece of meringue.

Day 12

The turtle floatie’s limbs deflate. I carry the deflated turtle under my arms into Canadian Tire and ask the woman if I can return the dead turtle. Gary. I mean look at him. She’s very helpful and seems to understand how sad we all feel with a deflated Gary in our life. She does everything possible to make the return seamless despite the fact that I don’t have a receipt or the physical credit card to process the refund. I love her. Her arms are soft and she reminds me of my grandma who was also in sales at the Bay for years. I wonder how many strangers loved my grandma.

Day 13

I listen to Violet and Simon laugh before bed—he’s reading Phoebe and her Unicorn aloud while I am already hovering at the edge of sleep. When Violet asks me to take over, I can’t. The moment I see my farm bed, my eyes slam shut. Maybe it’s the darker skies, the lack of lamp posts, the small brown bear that may or may not exist behind the barn…I don’t know. But once I lie down, my eyelids act like they’re on drugs.

Day 14

I finally finish Bel Canto by Ann Patchett—a very satisfying read about a group of hostages and the guerrillas holding them who become unexpected friends and lovers…a kiss in so much loneliness was like a hand pulling you up out of the water, scooping you up from a place of drowning and into the reckless abundance of air.

Day 15

I feel desperate to recap these musings into a package. Useful takeaways. I want to be useful. I decide on:

40 year-olds doing summer

1. Find a make up routine that you can repeat without much effort. You might need to get yourself a sister who knows all the make up hacks. (You can borrow mine!) For example, the lipliner trick to create the illusion of fuller lips. Line half the top and half the bottom in two shades (brown and pink).

   

2. Don’t do your same routine. If you normally get up and start moving, try being slow and leisurely. Like rolling onto your side to pick up a book and then reading a few pages before going back to sleep.

3. Soften your heart by looking at a baby lamb. Even if you know it’s from a meat farm—don’t think about that part while you’re gazing at the suckling baby lamb.

4. Revel in the beauty of your children—their skin, their smiles. Or someone young. Like the giddy baby in the ice cream shop whose mother won’t smile at you. Since the baby will—that moment is still yours to enjoy.

5. Celebrate something everyday. And then when you get grumpy renew your vow to celebrate. Get grumpy. Renew your vow. It’s a cycle. Maybe you can get faster at starting again. The point is you CAN start again.

6. When everybody else turns back because of the halo of mosquitoes that sounds like an off harmony choir, push through and make it to the end of the road as a sign to yourself that you walk your own fearless path.

7. At the midway point of summer how might you make things even more exciting?