Glory. Glory. And Gone.

An ache lodges in my chest late summer. I long to drink in the blueness of the sky and treasure each cumulus cloud drifting overhead. I want to absorb all of the sunlit warmth my body can hold. I want to hold on to the cricket songs and bird melodies, the cicada’s thrum.

I don’t want to let go of morning coffee outside. Floating on water. Lazy mornings with my kids sleeping past 9 and nowhere to be or go.

Living this far north of the equator has something to teach me about holding joy loosely.

Glory. Glory. And gone . . .

So I give thanks for this moment.
This sky.
That monarch perched on the yellow-and-red-flecked zinnia.
That gold finch swooping, flitting, chirping above the yard.

I give thanks for the sweetness of
my 9-year-old’s wet cheek pressed against mine;
the weight of this 10-year-old today, 11-year-old tomorrow’s head against my shoulder;
and the astonishing way this almost-14-year-old keeps leaving his little boy self behind somewhere in pictures and memories.

Inhale the gift of this moment, this sweetness.
Exhale gratitude.

This breath gradually loosens
that ache. 

Glory. Glory. Gone.

7 thoughts on “Glory. Glory. And Gone.

  1. Ah yes… and yet, just as new mercies come with each new day, so come new joys, and ones that come like old familiar friends.

    September sunshine and blue sky. Hints of colors peeking out from late summer green of the trees. The warmth that we gather, that comes with this season; campfires, pumpkins, hot cocoa or cider, and warm cozy sweaters.
    I love the colors of fall that unfold as the season deepens. there is a glory all it’s own…♥️


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