As I’m writing this, summer is officially coming to an end, school starts in two days, and my family is in that weird time between when summer camps end and school starts. It feels like the week between Christmas and New Year’s. What day is it? What time is it? What should we do? Nobody knows.

I love New Years resolutions.  While some people moan and groan at the “new year, new me” social media posts and flocks of newbies at the gym, I love setting goals and the wishful thinking that I’ll actually accomplish them. I’m still working on replacing my Diet Pepsi addiction with water . . . maybe someday. 

As a born-and-raised Pittsburgher, I never take summer for granted. I hate the winter—like, daydream-about-moving-to-California kind of hate. I’ve made more than a few empty threats to pack up and head somewhere with year-round sunshine and bougainvillea. But deep down, I know I’d miss the rhythm of the seasons—and the way summer here feels like a reward we’ve truly earned.

Back when Saturday Night Live started, there was a skit called “The Thing that Wouldn’t Leave.”