Summer goals 2021
So it goes.
You buy a house, get a new bed to replace the one you’ve had since right after you graduated from college - the one with a chewed bedpost, a remnant of your former dog Cecilia’s (rest in peace, sweet girl) puppy years - and put your clothes in the closets and marvel at the basement play space. You slowly make decisions regarding furniture placement and which rooms are important enough for a window AC unit when it gets too hot and humid to function. You slide books into bookshelves and get to know the neighbors during long talks out on the sidewalk.
But the big mirror, the cool antiquey one, which is unbearably heavy, remains propped by the table in the living room. You (as in me) have no idea what goes into hanging it on the wall above, where it would look great, your mom - who gifted you that mirror upon moving in - says, and she’s right. But your husband, who is good at hanging things on the wall, is worried, too. What if he doesn’t get the hardware right and makes a hole in the plaster? What if it isn’t secure enough and crashes to the floor? It would be preferable to get some help, he says, and since you are not the least bit useful in such matters, you wholeheartedly agree.
So it remains, propped against the heavy table, and you’ll get to it. The months march on and there is a global pandemic, for christ’s sake, and there it sits.
There is a comfort in the “someday” of these items that remain undone. The knowledge that life is too busy -or too inconceivable and difficult to navigate, in the case of the recent past - to get to the minor things, but you will, and those simple plans make up the infrastructure of our life.
I ran into a friend the other morning; literally crossed paths with her while I was on my morning run, and we took advantage of situation, walking together through our neighborhood (I love this neighborhood) catching up.
As we strode, we noted the sudden rush of activity these past few weeks. The gatherings and sports events and urgent need to connect has reappeared with a particular vengeance, because so many of us missed it for so long. Wait a second, we asked, did we learn anything from this pandemic? Beyond the empathy and gratitude, did we learn, on a deeper level, what we wanted to keep? Because right now it seems like…maybe we didn’t?
This is what I think, as I consider the mirror left unhung, the inanimate observer of both our slow and overbooked days: it’s too soon to know. These times were unheard-of. This reintegration is novel, too.
How do you reorient yourself when you’ve barely processed any of it? I don’t know. But I think I’ll start by listing the simple tasks at hand, and broader goals, as I’ve done for many years in this gentler season, when we put away the backpacks, and enjoy the mornings as though they could be lazy, when in reality, we still usually have to get someplace.
Embracing this new freedom - or whatever you want to call it - I’d like to get a few things done in the summer of 2021, and make room for the conversations that will help us shape this next part.
Because the one thing we have learned is that, if you make space for it, there’s time.
summer goals 2021
hang the mirror in the living room
go into the office for the first time since getting the job
try an ambitious recipe from “mastering the art of French cooking”
read every day
drinks by the creek, in yards, at garage bars
make homemade ice cream (at least once)
see live music (at least twice)
frame photos, find spots for them
visit Thornton Wilder’s grave
eat something we grew in our garden (fingers crossed)
write handwritten letters to a certain 12-year-old at overnight summer camp
run a random 5K
date night at a new place
learn to make a Negroni
swim laps
don’t worry about it
go camping
visit the Harriet Beecher Stowe Center
get a bicycle! go on a ride!
finish “Ulysses”
find time to write, then make it regular