True Romance

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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

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