It’s the Dictionary.com Word of the Day today. Fogdog. It means, a bright spot sometimes seen in a fog bank.

Fogdog chimed as it arrived in my inbox at 7:40. Like most every other morning this summer, I was already awake when it popped up in my email.

I wake up early, I edit until lunch, and then I run and I summer as hard as I can. I summer like I’m trying to beat it into submission. Corn hole. Grilling. Sparklers. Hikes. Ice Cream. Cartwheels. Kickball. Blueberries. Country Time Lemonade. Sweat. Laughter.

Summer. Summer. Summer. I will suck the marrow from your bones.

Because winter is coming. Because my children are growing. Because I only have these short hours, days, weeks, between now and whenever Vinnie returns to work, and my life becomes, again, a list of must-dos and school books and co-ops and calendar appointments.

After the games are all played and dinner has been devoured, I wipe down the counters. I pick corn silk from my teeth. I snap the covers on the ketchup and relish. I smell like bug spray and sunscreen. Vinnie puts the exhausted children to bed, and I sit down and edit until midnight passes me by, then one, and I’m cross-eyed and texting for Vinnie to come and help carry me to bed.

This morning, Vinnie made us coffee as I clicked through reception images and cursed purple uplighting. The word Fogdog popped into my periphery.

Fogdog. A bright spot. Globe lights twinkling over our pergola at dusk. Orange embers in the fire pit. The tips of sparklers whirling into letters and heart-shapes across our yard. Evaline’s impish grin. Asher leaping toward me with his arms wide open.

This summer, I could be miserable, but for all of the brilliant pinpoints of light, cutting through the fog banks.

I could be worrying about where life is taking us. I could be pacing around, anxious over jobs, stressing over dwindling savings accounts or the editing queue that keeps growing, despite my early mornings and late, late nights.

But, all things considered…I’m happy.

Life is brilliant and beautiful.

And this is summer.

Right here, in my backyard.