The End of an Era

by Brandon Jubar

It had been a few years since the end of summer had really meant anything other than shorter days and cooler temperatures. But then one year it was different. One morning in particular, at the end of the summer of 2002, brought with it the beginning of a new era.

It was the morning we took our eldest son to kindergarten.

School Daze

When I was younger, I looked toward the end of summer with a mixture of excitement and dread. On the one hand, I enjoyed the laziness of summer. Having the freedom to sleep late, stay up even later, and creatively avoid chores was something to be cherished.

On the other hand, I did not see most of my friends during the summer months. The end of the summer meant getting back to school. And school was the place where all of my friends were forced to congregate, whether they wanted to or not. In spite of the circumstances, it was still great to have everyone back together again.

As I got older, however, the end of the summer brought a mixture of nostalgia and dread, which was probably itself nostalgic in nature. The excitement dwindled over the years, and I longed for its return. In retrospect, I believe that the end of a summer started to mean that I was one year closer to the end of high school. And I had seen enough of the working world to know that it was not a place where I wanted to spend the rest of my life. The longer I could avoid it, the better.

The Age of Drudgery

The end of high school brought with it even more schooling. Luckily, college proved similar to high school, albeit a bit more arrogant. Classes were still during the day, homework was still a pain, and I still had summers off. Well, I didn't have any classes, that is. Unfortunately, summers meant working full-time rather than playing full-time.

But by the time I was in grad school, the coursework didn't stop for anything -- especially not for the seasons. That was the point when summers stopped meaning anything other than hot days, humid nights, and the occasional outdoor party.

The seasons -- and therefore, the years -- eventually began to run together. It's as if those clear lines of demarcation that I knew as a child had blurred and finally disappeared. In fact, that's probably why, while watching the news, I found myself saying things like, "Wow. Has it been five years since that happened? It seems like it was just a few months ago." My life had become mired in the drudgery of the daily grind.

Then my first son was born.

The Dawn of a New Era

Counting down the days to my own birthday anniversaries had long since lost its appeal. But once Kaleb came along, I had a birthday to look forward to again! Ironically, his birthday is in August, so I began to once again see the end of the summer as a turning point each year.

In a way, the first five years of my son's life was a transition period for me as well as for him. While his body was growing and his mind exploring, I was learning to see things through the eyes of a child once more. When Kaleb was two-and-a-half, his brother Tyler came along and yet another child's perspective was added to the mix.

Thanks to my sons, the world had again become a place of wonder and fun. I looked at things and tried not to judge them by grown-up factors, but rather on their relative fun factor. I watched airplanes flying overhead. I laughed loudly and often. I acted goofy and made silly faces. I stopped to stare at stuff. (And I used words like "stuff" -- even in formal writing.)

And then that summer morning in 2002, when we dropped Kaleb off at his kindergarten classroom, I realized that the transition was complete. The end of summer was once again exciting, scary, and a turning point for each year.

The new era had begun.

Life Applications:

What did the end of summer feel like when you were younger?
What does the end of summer feel like today?
If you had to divide your life into eras, what would they be and how would you describe them?

Copyright 2002-2007 by Brandon Jubar
All rights reserved.