I sit down to write this piece in my cellar “office” on a rainy Wednesday morning in late August. “I Want You” by Bob Dylan and “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” by Crosby, Stills & Nash play gently in the background. Beside me, on the bench of my Viscount organ, a photo album I was scanning lies open, filled with memories of people and places gone by.

I haven’t done much traveling this season. My only trips have been day trips; twice back to the Saint Anselm campus (which is 100 miles away from home) for NHIOP events, and once to the Rhode Island coast with my parents to celebrate my 20th birthday in early August. I’ve never been big on travelling anyway.

I haven’t done much swimming either. For someone who usually enjoys the water, I haven’t set foot in so much as a puddle or a pool all season. Of course, I hope to change that in the coming weeks with a trip to Wells Beach or Hampton. Either way, I’ve found that somehow this has been one of the most decorated summers of my life.

Getting older, I’ve found that the ‘days of wine & roses’ are over – summer isn’t always all it’s cracked up to be. For at least two summers in high school, I spent my time working for my father and his paint & wallpaper business. The past two summers, I’ve had internships to keep me busy. The pay is good, but I only work a few days a week.

I’d pick up more hours if I felt it necessary, but I’ve discovered that more valuable than time spent at a desk is time spent with family & friends. And this summer, I think I’ve come around to find that to be especially true.

Every chance I get, I try to spend time with my family. Although it’s just my parents and me, we usually get together with my grandmother and many aunts, uncles, and cousins who, fortunately, live close by.

However, I’m beginning to realize that time is fleeting and years are slipping by without my even realizing it. And with time comes age … with age, inevitably, come various complications.

If nothing else, this sunny season has taught me to appreciate what you have while you have it. Without divulging too much, I’ve noticed more changes in health this summer than perhaps any other. And while, fortunately, we’re all still kicking (*knock on wood*), life is more than a hint different than what it was even one year ago.

Mom’s cane is new, though hopefully temporary. My great-uncle’s lungs are weak, and his appetite is diminished. My great-grand aunt, at 95, isn’t getting around like she used to. Gramma’s doing better now, but had a rough bout of a respiratory virus that took up most of July. And now she’s grappling with the question of renewing her driver’s license.

Of course, this is all to be expected with age. Yet, I recall a time in the not-so-distant past when these beloved characters in my life were in their prime. Ironically – almost poetically, Fairport Convention’s “Who Knows Where the Time Goes?” quietly plays as I write these lines … what an essential question that is!

The abrasiveness of time on the body is most evident when you can see the effects on those whom you love the most. This summer, in my own home, I’ve been slowly witnessing the responsibilities shift as my mother’s mobility has slipped with the unfortunate diagnosis of osteoarthritis in her hip.

Of course, this is treatable, and fortunately, she’ll be able to return home the same day and attend physical therapy within two days. However, seeing the house slowly transform into a quasi-handicap-accessible, rehab-like environment has been tough to grasp.

Staring at the walker folded up in the corner and the cane by my mother’s side, I can’t help but feel I’m getting a glimpse into the future. This is a brief taste – a wake-up call – for what’s to come in the approaching decades. God willing, as my parents get older, I’ll get the pleasure of repaying them for all of the care they’ve provided to me in my youth.

But for today, with my father and I taking on more responsibilities, I’ve begun to realize just how much work goes into keeping up with the laundry, dishes, sheets, and other day-to-day activities. I suppose I have a renewed appreciation for the work that’s gone on seemingly “behind the scenes” while I was growing up.

Now, after a nice breakfast and lunch, I find myself writing in the early afternoon. The day is zooming past without much fanfare. I imagine the folks enjoying their time on the beaches and away on vacations, contrasted with those who may be struggling with loss or insurmountable health challenges themselves.

Yet, there is nothing more we can do – no matter the cards we’re dealt – than live each day to the fullest. “The rest,” as a wise woman once told my late grandmother, “is in God’s hands.”

Yesterday morning, I was listening to C-SPAN and heard a gentleman named Wally from Indiana call in. He described that he never had a computer, smartphone, or email.

He expressed a complicated, yet beautiful sentiment that resonated with me, a student of politics: “If you can’t do something about it, don’t concern yourself with it.”

He explained how his family would sit down each night for the 7 PM news with Walter Cronkite, and every four years, people would “make [their] statement” with their vote.

Otherwise, people would clean their homes, pay their bills, and care for one another. Instead of “babbling and screaming,” the man said, “love your family, be kind, laugh, enjoy the sun, and enjoy the rain … don’t take yourself too seriously.” I think that’s the message I want to get across in this monologue. Don’t take yourself too seriously – take time to breathe.

For me, this has been the summer of leaving it all in God’s hands. Even though I haven’t done much in the eyes of a world-traveler, I think I’ve learned a lesson on living. And as the academic year begins, I hope you’ll join me as I continue down that road.

Say your prayers, keep the faith, and never lose hope. God bless, and take care!