this is a perfect moment in time.
Windows open, slightly cool fall morning spilling into stuffy rooms, sliding along rays of light. Harmonious good-mornings and cooking breakfast together, something high-fat and filling to begin another weekend. Took the trash out and on the way in, admired the garden, seeing for once mostly possibilities amid the magnificent mess of tomato plants that are sprawling, cascading, out of beds because they were never staked up, and tall grass crowding among rose bushes and basil plants. Usually I only see all the work I should have done this summer. But even with so little of my effort, the garden bore fruit. Chew on that a bit, amor.
Is it awkward writing here abruptly after such a long hiatus? Maybe so. But this moment will slip by quickly and writing is the only way I know to save it, make it last a little longer.