The Summers We Don’t Realize We’re In

When I was younger, I used to get Memorial Day and Labor Day mixed up. I just knew one meant summer was beginning and one meant summer was ending. That was honestly the extent of it in my childhood brain. One weekend meant pools opening, cookouts, flip flops, sunscreen, and everyone suddenly being outside again after a long winter. The other meant school supplies quietly appearing in stores and that strange feeling that summer was slipping away.

Of course, Memorial Day carries a deeper meaning than that. It’s a day rooted in remembrance, honoring the men and women who lost their lives in military service. That’s the true meaning of the holiday, and I understand and respect that much more deeply now as an adult, but I also think holidays become emotional markers in our personal lives too.

Memorial Day weekend has always felt like one of those markers for me. Yes, people call it the unofficial start of summer, but the beginning of a season we rarely realize we’re living while it’s happening.

Summer feels different when you’re younger, when you’re a kid, summer feels endless. When you’re a teenager, summer feels exciting and freeing, when you’re a parent, summer feels nostalgic before it’s even over, and I think that shift happens so subtly you almost don’t notice it at first. One minute you’re carrying beach bags, packing snacks, putting floaties on toddlers, and sitting at swim lessons in flip flops with wet hair and Starbucks. The next you’re watching teenagers make plans with their friends while you realize the summers that once revolved entirely around family traditions are changing shape.

That part catches you off guard. I think that’s why Memorial Day weekend feels emotional for so many parents, especially moms. It’s a lot of nostalgia, it’s exhaustion, it’s gratitude, it’s anticipation, it’s memory, it’s also the awareness of how quickly life moves. Summer has a way of bringing memory to the surface, the smell of chlorine, fresh cut grass, citronella candles. Even a certain song playing while driving around town. The feeling of sunburned shoulders after being outside all day, hearing kids laughing at the pool, the sound of ice clinking in cups at backyard parties.

Certain things instantly transport you somewhere else. I can still remember summers when my girls were little so vividly sometimes it physically hurts. The Disney movie years, waiting all week for the Friday release of a Wizards of Waverly movie or Lemonade Mouth, Descendants, etc. The annoyingly big blow up waterslides that we always seemed to lose the pump and then there would be a hole in it, it would take forever to finally set it up, water balloon fights, packing snacks for every outing like we were preparing for a cross country road trip.

Back then the days felt long, now the years feel fast, and I think two things can exist at the same time:

You can deeply love watching your children grow up while still grieving the versions of them that no longer exist. That’s the strange thing about motherhood no one fully prepares you for. There are so many “lasts” happening while you’re too busy living life to realize they are lasts at all. The last summer they needed you to pack their pool bag, the last family movie night before friends became more important, the last time everyone wanted to ride together, the last summer before high school, the last summer before graduation. You rarely recognize those moments while they’re happening, you only see them clearly in hindsight.

I think that’s why nostalgia can feel so emotional physically too. There’s actually research showing that nostalgic memories can activate feelings of connection, meaning, comfort, and emotional warmth. Certain smells, music, and seasonal experiences can immediately bring memories flooding back because of the strong connection between sensory experiences, emotion, and memory in the brain, and honestly, I think summer holds some of our deepest sensory memories, especially for parents, especially for moms in midlife who are standing in that strange in between season where your kids still need you, but differently now. Your house is still full, but you can already feel how quickly life is changing.

Where Memorial Day weekend suddenly feels less like “summer starting” and more like time quietly tapping you on the shoulder. We think life will slow down later, we think we’ll remember every detail, but life moves in seasons whether we’re ready or not, and maybe that’s why Memorial Day Weekend feels emotional for me now, because every summer becomes a chapter, a memory, a version of ourselves we won’t fully understand until later. One day these will be the summers I miss too. The graduation parties, the late night talks, the driving lessons, the chaos, boat days, lake days, the texts asking to be picked up early, the messy kitchen after everyone’s home all day, the insane summer sports schedules, the laughter upstairs with their friends over, and especially the times where everyone is still under one roof.

So this Memorial Day weekend and this last few days of May, while everyone is rushing into summer plans, maybe pause for a second and look around at the life you’re living right now. Look at the people, the routines, the noise, the traditions, the ordinary moments that probably don’t feel extraordinary at all today, because one day they will be memories, and chances are, these are the summers you’ll miss someday too.