Acceptance + Sunshine + Summer Jobs

Let me tell you a story about this picture and acceptance and sunshine …

See that lock? Punching it shut for the last time always means one thing for me: the season is coming to an end. I get so sad and I have convinced myself over the years that I need an “official last day”. It is easier to finish this job when it is warm and sunny, when I am able stack the umbrellas side by side for the last time. It gives me a sense of closure. So, imagine my disappointment when I woke up at 8:00 on my last day of work and it was pouring. Imagine my further disappointment when my boss called to let me know that we may not open at all, but that he would check back at 10:00. Well, by the time 10:30 rolled around and it was still raining, I had accepted that maybe my “official last day” would not be on my terms. I had made peace with Mother Nature by staying in bed with the blinds closed pretending it wasn’t happening, I cursed the thunder a little bit, debated whether or not I should offer to work this weekend, and I cried a little. Then, I finally got my ass out into the kitchen, made breakfast, and got on with my morning. Like a big girl.

“It was a wonderful summer,” I had said to my mom over coffee, as I stood out on the front porch watching the rain. And I meant it. It had been hot and sunny, my customers were nice, I worked hard, and I was so grateful for each of those perfect summer days. I decided I didn’t need an “official last day”, that yesterday was as perfect as any other. “It is what it is”, I conceded, “if there is one thing I know can’t control, it is the weather.”

Then, like a miracle, like a gift from the Universe, the rain stopped. The sky cleared itself of every dark cloud and the sun started to shine. My phone rang moments later, we were going to open the shacks and my boss wanted to know how soon could I get to work.

The art of acceptance never ceases to amaze me. It is like this every time I experience disappointment, every time I am unwilling to release the way I think it should be from my stubborn death grip. As soon as I let go, I get exactly what I need. And so it was on my last day of work for the summer …

The moment I accepted the rain, the sun began to shine.

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