Danielle Ray
Special to The Landmark USA TODAY NETWORK
I always start feeling incredibly melancholy around mid-August, as the sands of summer begin to slip through my fingers. It’s not so much anxiety as a deep nostalgia for the warmer days, which are numbered at that point. And with back to- school looming, sort of panic sets in, a “but I didn’t get to do everything I wanted to do this summer with the kids!” feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’ve always worked casual, part-time freelance writing for this and other local publications while also being able to pour myself into the hardest job I have ever had, an oftentimes harried stay-at-home mom grateful for the gift of being present for my kids, a luxury I never took for granted. But everything changed when I took on a full-time journalist job almost two years ago, and last summer was the first one that I had worked full time during since becoming a parent almost 15 years ago. What a world of difference. We could no longer jet off to a playground or Farmland or the town beach on a whim after doing what I needed to do for the day. I was tethered to my home office, aka my dining room table, where my now second grade twins did remote kindergarten sitting on either side of me (a PTSD story for another day).
I relied heavily on my village for support and to help me with the kids, another aspect of the work-life balance struggle that rose to a whole new level. My best friend and parents happily stepped up to take the kids on adventures so I could do my job without feeling the guilt of giving them too much screen time. Gratitude doesn’t even come close to describing how I feel about all of them.
As a single working parent, back to school has come to mean something totally different for me. The house seems so quiet now, and after the rush of getting three kids out the door in the morning, I find myself longing for one more beach day, one more spur of the moment fun-memory-making outing after finishing my work for the day, one more family movie night without the constraints of getting the kids to bed at a decent time so they can be fresh for school the next morning.
Last week I sent my creatively uber-talented teen off to high school, and my sensitive and oh-so-sweet old soul Lego master builder 7-year-old son and his precocious, eternally curious, cat-obsessed twin sister to second grade. I found myself thinking, how did that happen? When did that happen? Weren’t they all just babies a hot minute ago?
The days are long, but the years are short is a sentiment I think about often these days.
Coming out of the pandemic, I know a lot of parents can relate to how I felt. We all breathed a huge sigh of relief when the kids were able to return to school buildings, and this school year in particular started out just about as normal as you can get. No masks, no social distancing and students sitting in desks placed in hallways to eat their lunch, and a little less worry about all things COVID-related.
Teachers, school staff, administration, and of course essential workers from a variety of noneducation sectors were catapulted to hero status in the midst of those troubling and unsettling times, and I now have an even higher appreciation and respect for what they do.
Here’s to an amazing school year for them and all the young minds they are shaping, the little people who give me great hope that they are the ones leading us all into a brighter future for everyone, for the greater good.
Danielle Ray, writer and photographer, is a longtime contributor to The Landmark. She lives in Sterling.
