On Being (Here Now)

Fall has finally arrived. Teddy came down to breakfast this morning asking for flannel sheets on his bed. I suggested we turn on the heat, but he doesn't think that's necessary. His room has two outer walls and it's the furthest distance from the furnace so he feels the chill first. It's hovering in the 40s this morning. Outside I should point out. He's golfed every day for a week even in the misty fog, but he already decided that today there will be no golf. Too cold. I will not hold him to that. I surmise the sun will come out and he'll be lured.

Lily broke out her Uggs today. The two of us curled up under cats and blankets last night for a This is Us double header. I only cried a little. She watches for my tears like a hawk and then calls me out. Sometimes I have to admit I have no reason for crying. Last night it was a song. What song? she asked. The music, the lyrics were completely off her radar. I refrained from explaining the porousness that comes with age, or perhaps, more aptly put...more life. She'll feel it one day and soon.

Today's a good day.  It's starting just the way I like it...with coffee, jazz and words. Alexa has gotten so smart that when I ask her to play Grover Washington Junior now she throws in equal parts Al Jarreau another of my frequent requests. It's the perfect combination and if I didn't groove on it so much, I might just find it disturbing. I'm reading Claire Messud's The Burning Girl and still listening to Will Scwalbe's Books For Living. Both have me thinking, asking questions, nodding my head in silent affirmation. They're good companions for this quiet day along with Peanut and Tigger who are waiting for me to get prone with an afghan.

I'm thinking about baking something for after-school snack. Having something warm and special reminds me of when the kids were little. I loved greeting them after a long day with something made with love. They loved it too. Maybe I'll whip up some pumpkin bread. That reminds me of my mom. She wasn't much of a baker save for this loaf and her gingerbread cake, but these two were stand outs. The recipe I have is jotted down in her handwriting so I always feel close to her when I make a batch, and I think that would be nice today. Plus it makes enough to share and I'm in a random acts of kindness mood.

Retreat for replenishment is just one of the many things I love about this time of year. It's acceptable to withdraw. External obligations are few so there is a renewed focus on internal desire and need. The introvert I am craves this time to refill my cache. I need it to gear up for the holidays ahead, which I am crazy about, but also find draining. Right now I'm not planning or shopping or searching. This is the calm before the storm. It's my favorite place to be: present, pondering, perfectly placated.