I’m writing this with my right foot in a boot. Things have not gone as planned.

It has been a difficult summer gaining momentum on The Shape Of My Son. I did finally get a page done after a month of effort.

But I’m not looking back over the summer as a failure. Some things happened. Some didn’t. A plan is just a list of things that don’t happen,. But there were a lot of other meaningful things that took place in my life. I fixed a bike I never rode. I grilled for the first time in years. I watched a lot of baseball with my boys.

And somewhere in all of that summer haze I got to thinking about how many summers I have left. Not in a morbid way. But just that they aren’t endless for me anymore, like they are in the eyes of my children. They are finite. And I want to remember these next few summers when my kids were this small.

I ended up writing about it on my blog: Remember The Summer of ‘26?

Labor Day is next week. Page 2 is prepped and waiting for me on my desk, along with pages 3 and 4. My foot is getting strong again. The yard needs work. This summer is behind me.