Spring may have ended on Beltane (May 1st), but for us, our spring activities came to a close Monday when my son’s final Tiny Treks adventure celebrated at the instructor’s house.
Monday was the last day of Tiny Treks. We went to the main teacher’s house and saw her bunny and played in her backyard and …
… and C insisted we had to go onto one of the boats. Not the paddle boat. Not the kayak. He wanted the canoe. Understand, I haven’t been in a canoe in thirty years. In fact, it’s probably near the anniversary of my canoe trip at a summer day camp when I was 7. I loved it when I was a kid; I felt like a god of the water. I sat at the back and led our boat safely around the bend.
Finding a life jacket big enough for me wasn’t easy, but there was one. Sort of. It closed, but my breasts pushed it up at a 45 degree angle. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to paddle, so I sat up front. C and another child sat in the middle, and her mom sat at the back. Neither of us knew what we were doing, but we made a good pass around Cottage Lake, and even landed back safely at the dock from which we started not too long after. There was an almost-collision with the paddle boat, but we all stopped and drifted together, then gave the paddle boat a shove to get them off and moving.
It was exhilarating, a little scary, but I’m glad I did it. C is elated. He LOVED it. He wants to go again.
So there you have it. 30 years after my first canoe experience, I finally had my second. And we all survived. Someone took a picture of us, but I haven’t yet heard back about getting a copy of it as proof.
On the same day, my daughter completed an online orientation and registered for fall classes at the community college where she’ll begin her Running Start journey toward both a high school diploma and an Associates degree. Since it took longer to register due to miscommunication from three different counselors, she wasn’t able to get her desired courses. The first quarter REQUIRED course was full as a stand-alone class. They did have it as an integrated studies course, though, so instead of Engl 101, she’ll be taking a combination of her required class and a psychology course, along with the Japanese we thought she’d not be able to get into first year.
So it’s done. We pay fees toward the end of summer, buy books in September, attend a third orientation (how many times can you use the word and still leave it with any meaning?).
Spring of this year has gone, and in some ways, the spring of my daughter’s life is heating up toward her many years of summer. Come fall, my focus will be far more focused on my son, and I’m already trying to find a routine that we can settle into for both seasons.
My partner struggles as well with this closing of a chapter, where we collaborated on educating our daughter together. Most of her studies will happen at college, and though we’ll be around to answer questions and offer guidance, this is a journey she’ll be walking mostly on her own and the responsibilities and consequences will be far steeper than those she’s experienced at home. We’ve scheduled eleven weeks of home prep — my partner wrapping up what he most wishes to impart upon her, and me working with her on the final books I think she most needs to read (and the essays she needs to practice).
Good bye, spring. Hello, summer.