The strange solstice

Today is the first day of summer, the longest day of the year, and as is my tradition, I am writing from a hillside overlooking the zoo, with a fantastic view of the sunset. A cloudy front had moved through about an hour ago, and I was concerned I would miss the sunset but it's passing at the right moment, and the setting sun is bright and spectacular.

Of all the years I've been blogging on around this day, this might be the weirdest.

The pandemic in progress, coupled with the fury our nation is feeling, has made this anything but a typical summer or year. The things that I normally would reflect on here seem not as urgent.

Yet, this is my last summer solstice before I turn 50. The first year I did this, I was 36 and had two toddlers, and 50 seemed so far off. Thirteen years went by in a blink, and I can't believe that the tradition I started that day has endured, seeming familiar and new every year I write from here, but frightening me that another year has passed.

Two years ago, as I knew 50 was around the corner, I wrote about how it was time to get everything in order for the next decade. Since then, I need to ask: Have I gotten my s--t together?

I don't know.

Some goals still seem far away. I'm not writing near enough; I'm don't feel as healthy and slim as I should be; and I haven't figured out how to totally appreciate every day that flashes by. And my brain is officially fried from the events of the past few months. I'm tired of the world stressing me out, yet I can't find a way to just ignore it.

Other things seem more organized. The house doesn't seem as chaotic and actually somewhat organized. Work is solid -- no chronic complaints. I like to think I'm connecting with the boys still, even as they naturally pull a little away as teenagers (and this is something I should always be striving to improve, no matter how good it seems). I feel young, despite what the mirror occasionally tries to tell me. And, I'm running again ...

So I guess that's where I'm at: in a good place, with room for more progress. I have it good -- I need to remember that, especially with everything that's going to happen as the boys move into adulthood, and with everything that's going on in the world.

The sun has tucked behind Antelope Island. Another solstice sunset in the books.

This year, for I think the first time, I brought a blanket with me to sit on in Donner Park. In the past, I just sat on the grass and hoped no bugs crawled up my shorts. Maybe I am getting wiser ...

And perhaps that is what the next year has in store for me -- wisdom. I think the incredible sunset would agree.