River with my mom & sister

Dead mans float... Pretty convincing!

My nephew Fishy swimming like a fish!
It's strange to me when the last of something comes and you don't know it's the last.  I remember feeling that way (really intensely) when I no longer picked up & carried the twins.  A few months later when a picture of me with four-year-old Logan on my hip surfaced, I was overjoyed.  I had captured the last of his being-carried days after all.  

Well, going back through our summer photos to get caught up from our whirlwind of adventures, I came to the realization that this trip to the river was our last for the summer.  That last one is always so bittersweet.  There are leaves floating in the water, the trees are looking more yellow than green, and the kids are even slower to come out of the water as if they know somehow that these days are numbered.

I think I am especially sad that the boys got to be SUCH good swimmers this summer, and with fall setting in, I know they'll have less opportunities to practice. 

Endings are hard for me.  But hard endings also mean that good things have happened. And that's kind of awesome.

1 comment:

Kasey said...

This makes me think of a blog Mel wrote on Stirrup Queens last spring.

Do you mourn the lasts you know or the ones you don't.