The end of summer is near. I can feel it in my bones and in the bones of our house, too. Each morning we wake up in fall only to meet summer again by the afternoon, the sun hot and relentlessly beaming. And because we have felt fall in the morning, our afternoons are spent with a deeper gratefulness. As I cook dinner each evening, I open the window nearest where I stand. I know the AC is running and I shouldn’t let all of that cool-bought air out, but I cannot help myself. I long to feel the heat outdoors. Soon, the windows will be locked and sealed for the season and so I relish the opportunity to let the steam mingle with my dinner, thankful for the season we’re in.
We are spending the rest of the week remembering Sean’s grandmother and leaning into the close family that she spent a lifetime weaving. I am fortunate to have met her, to have laid on her couch on Sunday evenings and listened to stories about her time spent raising children, to have share cookies + cakes with her, to have watched her hold my daughter. I know that so much of Sean’s parenting and husbanding is a result of her love. We are all a part of her tapestry now.
This year has been one of many sad, sad goodbyes.
Tomorrow June turns two. Life is constantly ticking around us, even though our hearts are hurting. Seasons will continue to change whether or not we are ready, this much I know.