The Lost Art of Summer

If you’re anything like me, some of your best memories are wrapped up in the magic of summer.

Summer was that glorious stretch of childhood freedom when there was no school, no homework, and no rigid schedule dictating where you had to be and when. The days seemed endless. We spent hours playing pickup games with the neighborhood kids, perfecting cannonballs at the community pool, attending that one unforgettable week of Vacation Bible School, where, somehow, we still remember every song, and, perhaps most importantly, being bored.
And it was wonderful.
Those long, unstructured days shaped us in ways we often overlook. They gave our imaginations room to grow. They forced us to get creative. They taught us resilience, independence, and how to entertain ourselves without a carefully curated itinerary.
Somewhere along the way, however, our culture changed.
Today, busyness has become a badge of honor. We celebrate packed schedules and overflowing calendars. Gone are the endless summer afternoons when a backyard picnic could be the highlight of the week. Instead, we have become a society that is frazzled, stressed, and perpetually stretched thin.
Being busy has somehow become synonymous with being productive. Being busy means we’re important. Being busy means we’re maximizing every moment and planning life correctly.
For parents of school-aged children, busyness often means filling every week of summer with camps and activities. We sign our kids up for Russian math programs, sports clinics, coding camps, leadership workshops, and enrichment opportunities designed to help them get ahead. We tell ourselves that keeping them busy will make them happier, more successful, and better prepared for the future.
For those without children, the pattern often looks different but feels remarkably similar. Between work obligations, exercise routines, social commitments, travel plans, and endless to-do lists, life becomes a carefully choreographed performance with very little room to simply exist. We convince ourselves that if our schedules are full, our lives must be fulfilling.
But are they?
The reality is that many people are exhausted. Anxiety, stress, and burnout are increasingly common companions. Busyness doesn’t necessarily help us connect with others. It doesn’t automatically make us happier. In many cases, it leaves us feeling drained, disconnected, and even resentful.
Most importantly, being busy is not the same thing as having fun.
So how do we bring more joy back into our lives?
Ironically, the answer may not be to do more. It may be to do less.
Maybe learning to slow down and enjoy summer is less about finding new things to do and more about remembering how to do less.
Lose the Phone
Choose one day each week when your phone is used only when truly necessary. Resist the urge to scroll, check notifications, or document every moment. Instead, pay attention to the people sitting across from you, the conversations happening around you, and the world unfolding in real time.
Get Lost Outside
Remember when spending an afternoon outdoors was enough?
Maybe it’s time for a picnic in the backyard. Kick off your shoes and walk barefoot through the grass. Listen to the birds. Watch the clouds drift overhead. Sit in the shade without feeling guilty that you’re not accomplishing something.
Nature has a remarkable way of reminding us that not every moment needs to be optimized.
Be Bored
When was the last time you had an entire weekend with no plans?
No appointments. No obligations. No carefully constructed itinerary.
What would happen if you allowed yourself to be bored?
You might discover a creative project you’ve been putting off. You might take a long walk with no destination in mind. You might read a book in one sitting. You might spend five straight hours playing Monopoly with your kids.
Or you might simply rest.
And perhaps that’s exactly what you need.
The truth is, some of life’s most meaningful moments happen when there is space for them to occur. Creativity thrives in empty spaces. Relationships deepen when we aren’t rushing to the next thing. Joy often arrives when we stop trying so hard to manufacture it.
Maybe this summer, instead of filling every hour, we should leave a few empty.
Maybe we should rediscover the simple pleasures that made childhood summers so memorable.
Maybe we should give ourselves permission to be less busy—and a little more alive.
Lori T. Howard is a licensed Marriage and Family Therapist who specializes in traumatic grief and loss. You can reach her at Lorithoward.com



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