Beautiful Butterfly Freedom

The summer months were much more highly anticipated when I was a kid than they are now. Back then, I could hardly contain myself thinking about having 3 months without school. And the last day of school? It was great. Summer was here and I could play all day. We would ride our bicycles all over town and the weather was always good. It seemed that somebody was always having a barbecue and there was always a swimming pool at which I had an open invitation to swim.

It's funny how the changing of seasons change as the seasons of your life change. What I've just described were my under 14 years. The high school season was still definitely highlighted by the 3 months off of school (except that summer after 11th grade when my mother made me take chemistry again), but had other more structured activities that, while still a good deal of fun, could never really measure up to the carefree bliss of the previous season. It was kind of like that Golden State Warriors playoff run in the 2006-2007 season. It was so wildly spectacular and unpredictable that you just knew somehow 2007-2008 would not quite be as good. Sure enough, it wasn't as the Warriors started to get a little finicky and began to question the taste of their own Kool-aid en route to a very tightly wound, just short of the goal season that saw them on the outside looking in. It was still a great time out, but, well...you know. Those were my high school summers. Instead of riding my bike all day, I played basketball. Instead of going to Great America, I went to basketball camp, and instead of barbecue's and swimming..well, um...let's see. Well, we did swim while we went to basketball tournament's in Las Vegas, and I'm sure we bought some barbecue. As I think back, the highlight of that season had to be that glorious hot summer day in August of 1988, when I finally came off that island. My boys were eagerly awaiting with high fives and a thirst for all of the sordid details of my adventure.

As the autumn leaves, the S.A.T. and graduation foretold the emergence of the next season, those carefree days of nothingness were starting to be but a distant memory. Vying for a significant portion of my bicycle, basketball, barbecue time from now on would be some sort of occupation. Sure, I'd get some spending money but having somewhere to be was a different feeling indeed. I was like the 2 little pigs that laughed all day, building their homes of sticks and straw and shunning hard work, much preferring to play. There were still barbecues, but the food no longer was the main draw. I should've been more swift on my toes but I was probably too intently focused on a pair of dimes, to notice that a paradigm was about to shift right under my nose. Somehow, almost overnight it seemed, getting back to school seemed almost cool. It's not like I was always going to be wearing a paper hat and being a spatula wielding fool. The jobs would get better and more high tech. Soon I'd even earn a wage and no longer be hourly.

We want to offer you stock options and a competitive starting salary.

No thanks. I'll be busy with basketball and my classes.

We'll let you work whenever you can.

Thanks, but no thanks. My free-time is controlled by this guy named Stan. (Morrison that is...was.... Men's basketball coach at San Jose State University)

And so this season dragged on a little longer than expected but that's the way it is around these parts. The seasons change so subtly until you can't recall when they changed at all. The bliss and freedom that used to glide by, the beautiful butterfly in the wind had all but met its end. Each day runs into the next and the last day is the last thing that you want it to be, unless foreclosure is something that you foresee.

Where are you now beautiful butterfly? Winter time is here and you are not around. The bitter winds rage on but you cannot be found. Where are you when I need you, like right now? Perhaps I am to blame. Truly it's a shame that we're apart for months on end. I know its been awhile since I checked back in.

It's cold out here but there's a glimmer of hope that we'll meet again. I'll keep an eye out for the bees and things and flowers because one of these mornings I'm going to rise up singing as I stretch my arms up toward the sky, so I can really be fly, right along with you living my life, my life, in the sunshine loving summertime.