Monday.
August.
I can hardly believe it.
Though the summer is hardly over, I can feel drifting slowly away.
There are inevitable moments when I feel this same feeling, every season, every year. I wait the season's slow retreat, and somewhere along the way (I haven't reached that "somewhere" yet this summer) I get excited about what is in store.
Part of my lack of excitement this year is due to the changing role of summer. Last summer, I was looking for a job after college. The summer before that, I was preparing to travel through the British Isles for three months.
This summer, I am continuing work into the fall, at which point I will continue to continue work.
There's nothing wrong with that picture. Except that my dream is to teach college. In which case, summers would eventually be mine to do with as I please. After doing my time as a summer school instructor, of course.
I'm not about to say I deserve three months off--not any more than any other person. And while I am between school and school, I will work and I will like it.
But it is clearer because of this sinking feeling that graduate school is calling my name. Not soon... first I need to prepare applications, take tests, apply for assistantships, make plans to move, save money.
But it's time to get moving.
