May 21, 2020

Dear Diary,

The jacarandas are in bloom throughout Southern California. The first time I ever saw a jacaranda was also the first time I ever visited Los Angeles, sometime back in the mid-nineties. Whizzing around the city (traffic was similar to current lockdown conditions back then), I recall being absolutely enchanted by the technicolor purple trees, which blurred together like an impressionist painting wherever I went. 

When I returned as a resident some years later, I was perplexed by their absence and inquired what had become of the fairy tale trees so firmly entrenched in my mind’s eye. My inquiries prompted a spate of emotionally-charged complaints about the evil sticky sap of the jacaranda’s trumpet-blossom (apparently one should never park beneath one), but ultimately resulted in my understanding that their blooming season occurrs only once a year, from about mid-May to late-June.

Initially saddened to learn of the jacaranda’s short season, I have come to recognize that it is because they are so fleeting that their reemergence causes me so much joy ever year. It also doesn’t hurt that by virtue of their timing, they always serve as a welcome reminder that summer is nearly upon us. 

Which must be the reason why, Dear Diary, that I so cheerfully declared my relief over the imminent culmination of my governess duties to Hubby the other night. 

“But what is our plan for the summer?” Hubby cautiously questioned, immediately extinguishing my reverie over no longer having to navigate Zoom passwords and Common Core math exercises. 

“What do you mean? Can’t we just relax?” 

As soon as the words escaped me, I realized how ludicrous it would be to assume that the children could simply “relax” unstructured for three months. Visions of them devoting their days to making Tik Tok videos while swinging from the ceiling fan, interspersed with WWE-inspired fight-club breaks, played out all too realistically in my head. And yet, at the same time, the idea of plugging them into daily virtual summer camps felt, and continues to feel, equally daunting. 

A friend of mine suggested that I sit the children down and encourage them to craft a daily schedule of fun non-screen-time summer activities to follow. I could not help but laugh out loud at my sweet friend’s wishful thinking. Unlike her children who do things like homework and bathing immediately upon being asked, we are not a very disciplined bunch and any such schedule would last about as long as Lysol disinfecting products currently do on grocery store shelves. 

I’m not sure what to do, Diary. I am hoping that the coming weeks bring me the inspiration required to solve this conundrum. Please wish me luck.

Very truly yours,

Maya