A moment of uncertainty passed before he realized that he had dozed off on his study couch. Sitting up quickly, he glanced at the clock on his desk, puzzled to discover that it was late in the afternoon. Giancarlo had spent the first part of the day tending at long last to the much-neglected flowerbeds and shrubs in his backyard. When he had finished, he came back inside, showered, and prepared himself something to eat. After lunchtime he decided to lie down, intending to rest his eyes for no more than a few minutes, for there were things he wanted to do before Carter came to the house for his lesson that evening. Instead he had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep, which had stolen away the afternoon hours and left him feeling more groggy than refreshed.

Rolling his neck and shoulders about to shake out the cobwebs, Giancarlo picked himself up and walked through the house to the front window. Across the street some children were laughing and shouting as they chased one another around his neighbor’s house, while others rolled about the street on skateboards. The days, he noted as he watched them play, had grown noticeably shorter. The sun was already falling away to the west, while the trees cast long shadows across the lawn. Giancarlo rubbed the back of his neck and turned from the window. It annoyed him that he had slept so long. Carter would be coming to the house soon, and he was not yet ready.

Giancarlo went into the kitchen and sat at the table with the pencil and pad he had used all that summer to document Carter’s lessons. For a time he flipped through the pages, following his notes, marveling still at how far the young man had come since he first appeared at his office door three months earlier. It was remarkable. Carter had achieved so much in such a short time that it had been a challenge to stay one step ahead of him from lesson to lesson. Looking back, despite his apprehensions at the beginning of the summer, Giancarlo realized that he had enjoyed the experience more than he would have ever expected, and he felt a certain pride in his student’s achievements.

The summer, however, had run its course. It was Friday, the next to last week of August, and two days earlier Giancarlo had let Carter know that his lesson that evening would be the last. It made sense that they finish up now. Carter was scheduled to leave for Italy the following weekend. He would no doubt be too preoccupied with his preparations in the week ahead to make any additional lessons of value, and with Labor Day looming large on the calendar, Giancarlo himself would be busy getting ready for the start of the fall semester. It was better this way.