It's not an exaggeration to say that I have never loved a summer quite like I am loving this one. The long, hot days and short, sultry nights. Meals eaten outside. Sandals and sunscreen. Time spent in the outdoor space we made and love so much.
And it's not just because winter was a beast, even though it was. It's also because these months of heat and light and fun have rejuvenated us in a way we both hoped for and desperately needed.
We are happier and healthier and hopeful.
And we owe it to summer.
The other day I drove home with the windows down, singing along to old school Dixie Chicks on the radio. And when I pulled into the driveway David was laying on the couch outside, waiting for me. I had groceries to put away and dinner to make but I did neither of those things. Instead I sat with him in the last minutes of sunlight while he played music and we talked about our days and about nothing at all.
At one point I looked up and the clouds that had hung around for most of the day were breaking. In their place, the sky had taken on a pink hue that got deeper and darker as the sun started to set.
And then the sun disappeared and the sky grew darker but we stayed just where we were. And as the crickets started singing their summer tune I looked up at my house standing tall and over at my good man sitting next to me and I felt something I hadn't in a long time.
For these moments. For this life. For home. For family. For all that is mine.