Watermelon Is the Whole Reason I Slow Down in Summer

I know—it’s just watermelon.
But I’m about to get a little poetic about it anyway.

At some point every summer, I remember I don’t need to be in a rush.

Usually, it happens when we cut into the first watermelon.

Not the pre cut kind. A full one. The kind you have to carry with both arms. The kind that takes up half the fridge and requires a knife the size of a small canoe paddle.

It’s messy. It drips. It attracts bees if you’re not careful. And somehow, that’s exactly what I need.

I hand the kids slices and watch them eat outside—juice running down their arms, seeds stuck to their cheeks. There’s no multitasking with watermelon. You have to stop what you’re doing. It demands both hands and your full attention.

That’s what I like about it.

It’s not clever. It doesn’t need to be turned into a salad. You just cut it open and pass it around.

That’s summer, basically.

Here’s what watermelon looks like in our house:

• A giant bowl in the fridge, always half full

• Rinds piled on a plate by the sink

• Kids asking for “just one more piece” before bed

• A sticky floor we’ll mop eventually

It’s not tidy. But it works.

Watermelon reminds me that sometimes the best parts of summer aren’t planned. They’re sliced open, shared, and eaten barefoot on the back steps.

And that’s enough.