No Place Like Home
We woke to 60 degree weather this morning. I love these last days of August and the first days of September when the earth gives a tease about what’s to come. I’m such a sucker for the tease. I don’t care that we’re not quite finished with the heat and humidity. I savor these cool mornings. After all, can autumn be far away?
I find myself running around the house lighting spicy candles and tarts. Trying to jump the season, I place the autumn wreaths on the doors too early, and start scanning the stores for seasonal decorations. Indian corn, the first pot of chili and big, orange pumpkins are just around the corner. Anticipation is in the air; at least it is for me.
My husband and I took our coffee on the deck this morning. I tugged on my warmest robe, took my perch in one of the ancient, peeling Adirondack chairs, and sipped my coffee while scanning the sky for our Canada geese. I’m not delusional. I call them “our” geese because, well, because they feel like old friends. They fly right over our rooftop, their familiar honk, honk, honking preceding their arrival. I’ve only lived in one house my entire life that wasn’t in the path of geese. How lucky am I?
My husband and I have spent the past three years caring for my elderly father. We found a wonderful woman to stay with him for awhile, and we’ve returned home. I’ve learned that we never know what the future holds. I’m not looking forward too much and not looking back. Living in the present has become easier for me, though it’s something I’ve never done well till recently.
After a long absence, we’re home again and savoring everything that entails: the cool mornings, even the old and peeling Adirondack chairs, and definitely our Canada geese.