Summer Solstice

For me, there has always been something so romantic about the fall. Ever since I was a child, I loved when the wind would change and the Santa Anas would roll through, and the smell of crackling fires filled the walk to the school bus. Despite the threat of fires, I loved the dry, cool air and cherry lip balm that sealed my parched and thirsty lips. Even though I didn't grow up somewhere where there are "true" seasons, Southern California offered enough of a change in climate that the air was different and the turn in temperature at least warranted sweaters and jeans and license to drink hot chocolate. Mornings could be in the thirties and evenings brought crisp air that begged for an after dinner walk through the neighborhood.

Even in the absence of "true" leaves changing colors and falling from deciduous trees, as an adult, I loved running down the pool deck to jump in the water before our feet froze to the cement. I loved the steam off the jacuzzi and the boys club that sat in there and owned the pond. I loved knowing that getting in the pool would be warmer than the air outside, so I may as well get wet and get moving on some yardage.

And now, here I suffer yet another ear infection because the water we swim in is as warm as soup. How I have not stroked out, I am not sure- perhaps because I never push myself hard enough to be in any danger of that happening? I dropped my car off to get tires today and ran home at 9:00 am. In those 2 miles, all I could think about was how I wanted to drop dead and I may not make it back in time to get my kids from camp. Even still, there was a contentedness in me that I have not known in a long, long time. I almost didn't recognize it at first. The sun seared my back and the glare off the pavement made it nearly impossible to choose my steps. Desperate for sunglasses was I, stupid enough to think a hat would be enough. Sweat dripped from my face and rolled into my eyes, adding burning insult to injury, mocking my stupidity for thinking I could survive a late morning run- the second of the day.

Yet, still, I was content. Maybe because I know the trip home is inside of two weeks, I feel calm and at peace. As much as I detest leaving Marc for many weeks on end, I delight in the idea of seeing people and catching up with friends. I love the idea of our trip to Tahoe and a drive up the coast to San Fran this summer. I cannot wait to workout at my old gym.

Maybe my death run today wasn't so deadly because I can think about and look forward to our trip to North Carolina this fall, where it will feel like a "true" fall. I still am not sure how weather affects me as much as it does, but I somehow never feel human when I try to operate under such compromised oven conditions. How am I still not "used to it" after three years? I am dreaming about 58 degrees in the Pacific and rolling hills and chilly morning air. I can't wait to run the cliffs along the coast and drink in the beckoning blue sea. I long for a time when we can redefine our lives and figure out what really drives us and move on.

At the heart of it all, I still come back to who I am and I know that first and foremost I am called to live a certain way. I shouldn't be so negative and I need to be grateful for all of Creation all around. I need to love nature (even gators- eek) and give glory to the One who makes it all. I have no doubt God calls each and everyone of us to a purpose. The difficult part is trying to decipher what that looks like and what that means. Sometimes the code is seemingly impossible to crack when it comes to what He is saying in and through our dreams, hopes, interactions, doors opening or doors closing. I always want things my way, but does that necessarily mean it is His way? Often times, I am too frantic to even try to figure that part out.

I tried to reconcile those thoughts on the run back to get the car at 11:30 am, but by then I was really fried.