In Praise of a Quiet Summer

It has been a stay-at-home summer, and that’s ok. Each of the last four years my husband and I have enjoyed wonderful trips to new destinations—a choir tour to Ireland in 2022 and most recently, visits to different parts of the American West in week-long increments.

But this year is different because we are caring for a blind, diabetic dog, and we’re simply not comfortable leaving her.  I know there are those who would say, “Put her down, already, and get on with your life.” Umm…no. This is part of what you sign up for when you choose to love an animal.  And I can’t ask our pet-sitter to arrive at 5:00 AM to feed her breakfast and inject insulin. Plus, I would be worried about her the entire time which would compound my already over-the-top travel anxiety. I’m ok once I get to a place, but the packing, the airport madness, and the whole chaotic process of getting there sends me into a spiral of stress.

So, aside from the daily barrage of political horror, it’s been a quiet, somewhat gentle summer, immersed in the familiar. I still swim a mile in the pool several times a week and putter in the garden and watch the hummingbirds while we eat dinner on the porch. We’re usually up between 4 and 5 AM to deal with Stella so a late afternoon nap is now a frequent occurrence. We’ve done very little singing, outside of a few church gigs and that’s been good, too. My aging voice needed a rest, and when I have sung this summer, it feels and sounds better.

My point is it’s ok to downshift a little, and that's hard for someone who tends to be type A. We do not always need to pursue the retired life expectations glorified on social media posts. (The trips! The pickleball! The Wellness classes!) I’ve read good books and enjoyed spontaneous visits with friends and spent mornings delivering food to people in desperate need who have touched our hearts with their gratitude and grace. I’ve cooked meals for a family dealing with a serious health situation, and I’ve had time to work on a piece of writing that keeps niggling at the back of my brain although it’s still in what Anne Lamott calls the “shitty first draft” stage. Freed from the details of planning a major trip has given me space.

Stella will eventually leave us, and we will travel again at some point, I suspect, in the not too distant future. Fall will soon be here, and with it comes a return to choir rehearsals in Lancaster and Hershey as well as a few evenings helping with school instrumental nights. But in some ways, this quiet summer at home with Stella has been more of a gift than a burden. I am living in and appreciating the moment more instead of rushing forward to the next item on my to-do list.

These are precious days for so many reasons, and I’m allowing myself to enjoy them.