Quote Love: “So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when really, shouldn’t it be the other way around?” Kathleen Kelly, from You've Got Mail.
On days like this, I sit on the floor with a book on my lap and a cup of cold coffee on the floor next to me. Think, read, dream & drink coffee. The clouds are slowing rolling in, gradually darkening the sky. It smells like freshly mown grass & rain outside. I'll still be awake when it starts to rain. I'll go out and lay on the trampoline in shorts and a tanktop. I'll put my sunglasses on, the plastic ones that won't rust, so the water doesn't run into my eyes. Someone will come out to join me, and inevitably, we'll begin pushing each other down, slipping and falling on the slick surface.
Can skin be thirsty? Mine is. It’s thirsty for rain. For water pummeling down from the thick clouds, Sinking into my skin and running down my eyes. My ears strain to pick up the sound of the thunder, My eyes, for the sight of the lightning slicing the black sky in two, for the feeling of the water. My soul is thirsty for God the way my skin is thirsty for rain.
I'm feeling nostalgic today. Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's the beginning of a new school year, maybe it's the jeans and sweatshirt I've been wearing all day making me wish for cooler weather and changing leaves. It's the most beautiful time of year, filled with so many different memories. Bringing out the hoodies, jeans, and boots. Drinking hot cider and snuggling down in camp chairs at the edge of the soccer field. Raking up leaves then jumping in the piles. It's my favorite time of the year.
The mornings have been thick and foggy, each day the fog lingering longer than it did on the previous day. I wonder how long the mornings have been like that, and if I'm just now noticing since I'm awake then. From the porch I can barely see past the corn fields on the far side of the road. It's misty, beautiful, and mysterious. Anything could be behind that mist.
School has gotten off to a good start. Two days down, one hundred and seventy-eight to go.