Morning

I'm going to miss a lot of things about summer.
I'm going to miss getting up late, and obscenely early, based on only how I'm feeling. I'll miss going for dim sum in the city every Sunday with my family. I'm going to miss my seasonal job at the market, and my sweet, loyal customers. I'll miss wrestling with my younger siblings. Hour long car rides and days where I sat out in the sun and only thought. Playing World of Warcraft with reckless abandon. Taking ridiculous, gritty photos to impress my Father. Sweltering hot walks through town. The world's best ice cream.
I going to miss it all.
I hope that I can be more proactive this year, so that my parents don't have to work as hard to make sure I am where I need to be and doing what I need to be doing. I hope that I will become even more dedicated to my music and that it won't be too terrifying in my new, difficult orchestra. I hope that my parents will feel the work that they've put into this new house and be able appreciate it, during the crazy, fully-scheduled school year. I hope I will find purpose in my schoolwork. I hope I will not miss my mother too much, with me at school and her at her job. I hope that I won't spill anything on white shirts. I hope that I will have my iPod always charged.
Thoughts like these always come up at the beginning of September, when letters start coming in the mail, announcing prep day, reminding me. They press. They bring a sourness and longing into these last days of August. I am, to say the least, unwilling to begin again. Usually.
This year is different. I'm going to a place where I want to be. Where I am relieved to be and excited to be. This autumn holds little of the regret and drudgery that I have come expect.

I am so ready.