Spanish views from a small town

And, we're nearing the end of August. Already, the summer is coming to a close, when my head is telling me summer is just beginning. There have been no festivities, no concerts, no large get-togethers, no celebrations, no outings. We had a First Communion last month, but immediate family, only. I had my trip in June, but that was it. And next month, there are no festivals, especially the week-long festival of Guadelupe. There's nothing to say we're in the middle of summer except the weather. And, even that wanted to warn us what fall will be like this week. From this afternoon on, the weather will begin to open up and summer will return. But it's been rainy, foggy, grey and yucky most of the week. I've gone back to wearing lightweight pants again. Lightweight, but pants, nevertheless, and not shorts. Pleasant temperatures, but not August temperatures. I am entering the last week of summer classes. Next month I don't give classes. I begin the school year in O...

Waiting. We are all waiting for something. Waiting for the bus. Waiting for the elevator. Waiting for the rain to stop. Waiting for someone to come home. Waiting for the hour to go home. Waiting for the evening. Waiting for the sun to rise. Waiting for our favorite show to come on. Waiting for payday. Waiting for death. In between all this waiting, do we actually live and savor each moment as if it were a rough cut diamond? Or do we let the minutes escape, thinking that once we achieve what we are waiting for, we will finally stop and contemplate the daisies by the wayside? But once what we are waiting for arrives, we start to wait for something else. It happens to all of us. We wait to go home, thinking that moment is our refuge, that that is the culmination of our day. And when we arrive home we start to wait again, for dinner, for the news, for someone else to come home. And when we have finished waiting for all that, we wait to go to bed, to sleep and wait for another day. I s...