It's raining outside. The smell of it mixed with the whimsical mood I am suddenly in makes me want to dance in it. Or at the very least, go for a run. I settle for tea on the back porch instead. As the neighbor kids run for cover and bitterly complain about this weather taking away one of their last days of summer, I chuckle. It's one of the many difference between kid-Amber, and adult-Amber I guess, the practicality of rain at this dry time of year makes sense.

The smell makes me nostalgic for the August days in the town I was born, it reminds me of my grandmothers porch, the way my cousins and I loitered out there constantly one summer, placing bets on which family members would cross the line between loud and obscene at the next family dinner, or sneaking off to puddle jump when Grandma wasn't looking.

It's amazing really, to look back and notice how gradually, yet also so suddenly, life went from puddle-jumping to job proposals, from playing house to keeping one of my own. When I was a kid, it felt summer used to stretch on endlessly. Days would creep by so slowly it felt like you lived an entire lifetime in a week. Now, I am worrying about making it to my daughters swim lessons on time, buying her school supplies for kindergarten, and compiling what resembles a menu for the week so my grocery shopping has some method to it, while maintaining laundry, playdates, and doing homework, all in one day, leaving me feeling exhausted at the end of the day.

Even this summer, despite my best efforts to leave it as structureless as possible has been too full of plans and obligations. Will Em be able to look back and have memories of building the adventure around herself like my cousins and I did as we pretended the lilac bushes were our pirate hideout? Will she remember the freedom of exploring the world around her like I recall?

"Mom, let's jsut go outside and build some fairy homes, that's all I wanna do."

With any luck, and a spirit like hers, I am betting she will.