Growing up in the Midwest came with a set of expectations, which I suppose is true of all people in all places. With respect to the weather that expectation was to experience all four seasons in all of their fullness. Therefore the expectation we had for Winter was cold, very cold.
Yet, I can not recall a single year that didn’t contain a day or more of what my grand parents called an Indian Summer. Those were welcomed days of unseasonable warmth. I can’t recall a single year where the convertible top wasn’t popped for at least one day during the month of December.
I’m not thinking of the times where we took what we affectionately called sleigh rides; trips in the dead of Winter when we’d take the kids or grandkids to see Christmas lights or get a Christmas tree or just experiences light snow- all bundled up and with the top down.
No, I’m recalling those warm days, shirtsleeve weather when the top would drop and life seemed grand. I can recall walking out of the Starbucks in Town & Country, MO on such a lovely day. The top was down on the Audi, even though remnants of snow lingered in piles along the roadside. I was heading to the office, so I probably wasn’t in shirtsleeves but in a suit or sport coat, but with hot coffee in hand, I remember thinking what a glorious day to be alive.
Yesterday was that sort of day. And while the weather was glorious, the weather had nothing to do with the grander of the day.
Feeling well, you suggested going out for dinner. Of late that would mean take out, but we decided to head up the street to E&E Stakeout Grill. Off we went in grand Floridian style (by golf cart) to enjoy the coolness of the evening while dining on the patio and enjoying the guitar soloist playing next door outside Bella Vino.
When you said to me that it had been a great day and one where you felt normal, two emotions instantly washed over me, sheer joy for seeing my familiar Pam and intense sorrow for having missed it in the only day in recent memory where I had to be gone nearly all day.
I remember you saying that you felt so good that it seemed surreal to know that you are dying. It was a sobering statement that had two sentiments in tow. Gratitude for the moment and sorrow for our situation.
So what’s my point? Even in the midst of Winter bareness, we can find our Indian Summers. Let’s pledge to each other that we will look forward to and commit to embrace each of these respite days, be they many or few.
Let’s use them to rekindle our memories as well as our love for each other. And let’s pray for more Indian Summer days.
Love,
Brad