The Last Dance of Summer

I chaperoned a grade school dance last May, the boys stood lined up against the mats on the gym wall and the girls danced in the middle of the floor with each other. Both stayed that way for hours, apart from each other and believing that the chance to dance would last all night. When the deejay called out his last song, they all froze, not sure how something this wonderful could end. There were flitting glances sent back and forth, from girls to boys and back again. "This is it," I whispered to the group near me, "the last song is here. If there's anything you want to do before this night ends, you better do it now." A few faces looked into mine, all they needed was one more push. "It's the last dance. You don't say no to the last dance."

August is summer calling out its end. If you want to walk out into autumn without looking back in regret, you'd better slide your body off the wall and into the center.

This morning, I'm going to go to the outdoor cafe with the shade trellis where I've yet to sit and order a warmed croissant with morning coffee.

I'm going to make sure the bottoms of our feet trek along the boardwalk that runs over the sand dunes 50 minutes from my home.

The surrey tram rides that circle the lake nearby stop running on Labor Day. We'll go there this weekend.

Since June, my children have been asking me for an old-fashioned picnic, so I've brought up the basket from the basement.

Summer will come again, but this summer won't. Everyone will be older in the one to come. We'll have experiences this year that we know nothing about right now. Lots will be different next year--but for this first day of August, right now, it's all wonderfully the same. There are five of us at home, five of us still together in this house as a family, until August comes to an end.

My children don't look that much different than they did this time last year. I'm the one who is thicker in the middle, my youngest -- he might be the only one that's changed, he stands eye to eye with me sometimes, it depends on the day.

The golden syrupy days are here, of when the packed summer schedule of classes is finally wrapped up and any vacations to be had, are now returned from.

August holds its hand out to me, and I've learned enough to know you don't turn away when asked to the night's last dance.

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