The perfect moment

I’m in the middle of a perfect moment. The bustle of the cafe all around me, the remains of a pastry on the plate to my left, cappuccino in a heavy mug on my right, foam on my nose, Pandora streaming through my ear buds. Fall has finally arrived in Nashville, bringing with it cooler temperatures and crunchy leaves that I just want to stomp, simply to feel the satisfaction of its crackling crumple.

It’s this time of the year that I always miss my brother a little more. Yes, he’s just a few states away, but fall—fall was always our time of year. We were the October babies. It was time to pick cotton and work hard (mostly him, not me). It was birthday gifts, sweet family celebrations for both of my grandmothers’ birthdays, and ballgames, the whole family crowded into the basement to watch the World Series.

It’s still that way sometimes, except our family has gotten bigger. Amber married my brother last August and Eli will be here in a few weeks time, forever the first grandbaby. Grandma Polly has been gone for more than a year and Grandma Ruby sometimes doesn’t remember who I am these days.

Fall is my favorite. Because it’s the changing season, the time when summer lets go and we ease in to the bitterness of winter. It’s a respite, a short season to rejuvenate us, to restore the energy the heat of summer has stolen and remind us of the bountiful blessings God has given. So today, in the middle of Panera, I stop to ponder the blessings I’ve been given: friends, family, laughter at lunch, the look of unconditional love in my dog’s eyes, cappuccino foam on my nose. If I’ve learned anything in the 30 years I’ve been on this earth, it’s that every day is a blessing of sorts.