Thursday, October 3, 2013
Monday, September’s end, I met my friend Sherri for our annual birthday lunch. We always celebrate together sometime within the vicinity of our five-day-apart birthdays. She’s one of the half dozen or so of my nearest and dearest with whom I share September as a birth month. The café we chose serves Southern food, and we both ordered buttermilk biscuit sandwiches filled with fried chicken, bread and butter pickles, and mustard, dripping with honey collected from the restaurant’s beehives. We caught up on the past couple of months since we last saw each other; beginnings to the school year, an upcoming bar mitzvah, a successful tennis tournament. Our conversation dwindled as we sank into carbohydrate comas. We said our goodbyes, and drove to our respective carpool lines. As I waited, I closed my eyes in the warmth of the sun streaming in through the windshield.
We’ve had a pleasingly slow, steady progression from late summer into early fall. The days sparkle; some have a snap to them. Many nights I’ve gone to sleep to heat, and woken to the sound of wind moving through the trees, rain on the roof. Some mornings thick fog rolls in before our very eyes, and I squint to find the curve of the road on the drive to school. Not a day has passed without sunshine. The first of the leaves fell in a torrent onto the streets and sidewalks and our deck over the weekend as the wind blew fiercely and rain fell heavily. The gingko across the street has assumed its autumnal yellow.
We’ve watched squirrels working with great diligence and focus as they, well, squirrel away their supplies for winter.
Even though it’s been a month since school started, I still tend to mutter to myself as I make my way around the house midday, unused to the solitude.
Abbott is running cross-country on his middle school’s team. He is happy, confident, enthusiastic among his new peers.
I have trouble comprehending having a son old enough to be in middle school.
After school today, we walked down the gravel trail to the beach. The sun was at its late afternoon, autumnal slant, the air clean and cold. My peripheral vision caught a flash of movement, and when I followed it, discovered an osprey with a fish in its talons, furiously trying to work itself free of the death grasp.
I love it all.