The Last Weekend of the Last Week

"We watch the season pull up its own stakes
and catch the last weekend of the last week
before the gold and the glimmer have been replaced,
another sun soaked season fades away"

Jordan Pond, Acadia National Park, Mount Desert Island, Maine

As a public school kid, Labor Day weekend was the dreaded end-of-summer landmark, the last hurrah before textbooks and teachers' dirty looks returned to rule our lives.  It's been a few years since I've been a student, but this time of year and this weekend in particular always bring back that feeling.  The pressure is enormous: you are about to lose your freedom, and you must make the absolute most of your last weekend.

I've been feeling this pressure for about 3 weeks now, since I returned from my summer vacation: a road trip that took me across much of the northeastern sixth of the country: over 3,000 miles in 16 days.  When I returned, it felt like the calm before the storm: we had 10 workdays until students return and classes begin.  Somehow, even though the semester began last week, this weekend still carries a lot of weight.

I spent a big chunk of time this afternoon editing and organizing photos from my trip, wanting to take the time to do that now before the semester gets further underway and I no longer have the luxury.  It seemed like a nice way to commemorate the end of summer, the start of a new season.  And it was a good reminder of how rejuvenating the trip was, the time spent with family and old friends, and the beauty seen.

But isn't that what we're always trying to do?  To make the most of our leisure time in order to justify our work time?  Labor Day weekend is the epitome of the carpe diem philosophy, and I hope I'm able to hold onto this desire to live life to the fullest well after this sun-soaked season fades away.

Note: The song lyrics at the beginning of this post are from Dashboard Confessional's "Stolen" from the album Dusk and Summer.