Thank God, summer is here!

May shows up every year right on time, but somehow, it always catches me off guard. One moment I’m packing lunches and scribbling last-minute permission slips, and the next, I’m staring at a pile of crumpled artwork, worn-out backpacks and shoes that magically no longer fit.

It’s the end of the school year – and the beginning of something beautifully unstructured.

This month is always a blur. Concerts, field days, awards, goodbyes, and “just one more” event on the calendar. It’s the season of chaos dressed up as celebration. And as the girls grow, their activities multiply like fireflies – bright, fleeting, and impossible to catch all at once. Their worlds are expanding, and with it, so is my Uber-parenting schedule. Five directions at once, five drop-offs, snacks for every stop, and the lingering question: did I forget something?

But finally – finally – it’s official. Summer break is here.

Cue the collective exhale from every parent holding it together with caffeine and carpool. No more 6:30 a.m. wake-up battles. No more missing water bottles, lunchbox negotiations, or rushed ponytails. For a little while, the backpacks are (temporarily) retired, the pace slows. The mornings are lazier. The shoes are optional. And the “what’s for dinner?” can now occasionally be answered with “popsicles.”

Summer is our pause button – the sacred space between school years where kids get to just be. Where there is no structure of classrooms and soak in the freedom of long sunlit days. It’s a season for scraped knees, wet towels, sticky hands, and the thrill of staying up past bedtime. It’s also a season of memory-making, where magic hides in the ordinary: sidewalk chalk masterpieces, firefly chases, lemonade stands, popcorn for no reason, looping around the block with besties on bikes and that first bite of cold watermelon under the sun.

And us parents? We get a break, too. A break from being everywhere at once. A break from the constant logistics. A break that doesn’t mean doing nothing, but doing things differently – a little slower, a little sweeter. Maybe even with a scoop of ice cream here and there (and okay, maybe here again).

Summer reminds me to breathe. To stop measuring time by to-do lists and school calendars, and instead let the days stretch and unfold. Because even though May comes every year, it carries a different weight as the kids grow older. These few months of freedom hold endless moments – some loud, some quiet, all fleeting.

So here’s to the summer ahead – to the barefoot mornings and late-night giggles, the sunscreen-scented memories and spontaneous adventures with folding chairs and picnic blankets packed in the trunk – ready for live music on the lawn, fireworks at dusk, or impromptu front-yard hangout. Thank God for this little reset button tucked between the school years. We’ve earned it!

I’d love to hear your summer stories – the big adventures, the quiet moments, the unexpected joys. Let’s capture these memories together for my Taste of Community anthology, a book dedicated to the ways food, culture, and connection bring us closer. Submit your stories at this link.

And while you’re at it, give your kiddos an art project: help me design the cover for the book! Let their creativity shine and submit artwork at this link.

Here’s to bare feet, drippy ice cream, and belly laughs under the stars. Here’s to a summer that reminds us what it means to simply be.

Let the messy, magical, sun-soaked ride begin.

Pooja Thakkar is working to build connections through cuisine. You can read her column each week in the pages of The Reporter.