The end of summer, and the first of many lasts

The importance of building memory banks

7:20pm. The sky outside is the color of hydrangeas, the powdery blue ones that bleed towards violet around the edges. I’m always surprised at what time the sun sets around Labor Day. I know that it clocks earlier in increments as soon as the solstice hits, but when August passes into September, I’m forced to acknowledge it and the change always feels sudden.

8:00pm. The sky is already pitch black. I am not ready.

Currently in New York, we are at the tail end of a heatwave, the same one that blanketed the west a few weeks ago. Kids are back at school and the apartment is quiet again, but this heat is at odds with what makes sense in our storybook versions of Back to School season. The start of September can often be deceiving—it is still technically summer after all, but after what was a spectacular August of low humidity and delightful weather days, the return of heavy humid air is oppressive for the first day of school.

“Do you have any list of supplies you need?” I ask my new high school senior.

“No, I don’t need anything. Maybe a binder.”

“What about sneakers? The ones you’ve been wearing for the past year are falling apart.”

“No, they’re fine.”

It’s funny how unceremonious the first day of school can be the older your kids get. No more trips to Staples with a printed list of supplies, some of which were maddeningly specific, sending us on a scavenger hunt all over Brooklyn for different colored dry erase markers and marbled notebooks with red and green covers. I still have a stack of those unused notebooks in a drawer collected over the years, many of which were only a quarter filled by June.