True Romance

-


It’s a chilly Monday morning in August. Sixty-two degrees and the sun is coming up over the trees. This is my favorite time of year, these days in late summer that foretell the coming of autumn. “Autumn,” by the way, is one of my favorite words and always has been.
                 The leaves are still very much green, but I’ve begun to see vibrantly orange-colored ones dotting the lawn. Yesterday afternoon at the picnic table, a maple leaf let loose and floated down, landing in a bowl sitting next to me at the table. Fall…

My beau finds this time of year melancholy. The ending of another summer, he says. In conversation on this subject, however, I am presented with my own realization that I have always seen autumn as a time for beginnings. The start of school, the joy of new pens, pencils, three-ring binders…sweater season—and my
birthday, marking the beginning of the journey of another year. I wax introspective.

This year I have come to terms with an aspect of my identity: I am a true-blue romantic, a facet I’ve tried, unsuccessfully I imagine, to hide, to ignore, to keep private, to protect. Today, I am coming clean with the intention of fully embracing this part of who I am. This has been a long time coming and recent days have been filled with profound sadness and joy in equal measure, giving birth to the awareness that what makes life precious is that fine balance between finite existence and the eternal nature of spirit.
                The whole is greater than the sum of its parts and beauty exists in the most unlikely places. Today, on this cool, crisp morning as August begins to draw to its close, I am renewed, I embrace my romantic self, accepting a simple gift that so perfectly defines my partner, my One.

How do you not love a man who brings you flowers—especially those he’s cut from his own yard and bound together with duct tape?

Comments

  1. bookwormAugust 25, 2014 at 4:01 PM

    I would love a man who brought me flowers. I got such a chuckle out of the duct tape. His heart was in the right place! My husband of 40 years does many things to show his love, but somehow, cut flowers are not one of them. Late August makes me a bit wistful, too. Alana

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Maia LagerstedtAugust 25, 2014 at 4:22 PM

      The duct tape is so endearing.He did such a nice job of wrapping the stems--I get the biggest smile every time I look at them.

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Juicy Peach

-
Image
Today I invite you to take everything you know to be true about yourself—and let it go. Let it go and see what happens. When you give yourself enough distance to see things from a new perspective, you change the way you see yourself. Reclaim your positive truths; re-write the not-so positive ones. Go on, take an honest look... I let go of this belief about myself long enough for it to come around again, to stay for keeps this time: I am a writer. If the truth were to be told, in letting go, in stopping writing, I discovered that this is who I am. I write. I cannot help but write. I have begun again and now I can’t seem to stop. I don’t want to stop. Other beliefs I let go of seem to have gone for good—I am unworthy; I am unpretty; I am alone; I hate baking—and have made space for new beliefs. Better ones. If someone had told me, as recently as six weeks ago, that I would not only fall in love with baking, but be quite good at it, I would have completely dismissed thi
Read more

Recipe Schmecipe

-
Image
Here is one of the most annoying things about me. I’m reluctant to say that, actually, because I don’t really consider myself to be all that annoying. Then again, who does really? It rarely occurs to us that the things we take for granted about ourselves might drive someone else to distraction. Also, I don’t believe in engaging in negative self-talk. So… I am quirky and I tend to wander off a bit. In a good way. Here’s what I’m talking about… I love to cook and I love to write about it—and recently, I’ve gotten into the habit of photographing my food. This can be inconvenient if I happen to be really hungry since I take the time to try to make my meal look good on a plate. I’ve been known to change plates half-way through. Better photo op.                 Then there’s the angle and the lighting and the conversation that takes place between my growling stomach and my right-side brain. STOMACH:     Come on, already! BRAIN:            Just one more shot.
Read more