This morning I am grateful for cooler weather. I’m almost afraid to say that, because as we all know cooler is just a step or two up from cold and then ultimately frigid will strike. And no one wants that. This unmerciful heat has just been too hard on my not so youthful body.
The breeze coming in my bedroom window this morning had some snap to it, some deliciously cool snap and the blue sky was sparkling, its colour vivid and sharp, not hazy with heat. From my position of being propped up on two fluffy pillows I could visualize a day of activity rather than a day of being collapsed on the basement couch begging my body to stop perspiring, a long way from glowing.
On a cool morning I can do almost anything. I can imagine the laundry snapping on the clothesline and the kitchen floor glistening and Gracie on a long walk and gathering bags of stray apples for my pony. On a cool morning anything is possible even sitting on the deck with my feet up while I contemplate grandmotherhood that is creeping ever closer. On a cool morning I am a fabulous grandmother, remembering exactly and automatically what it takes to comfort a fussing baby, the perfect cuddle hold to ease his distress of this new life outside his mother’s body. On a cool morning I will have just the right words to encourage my daughter, to help her grow into this privilege of being a mother that is never without worry or doubt or fear. On a cool morning I can’t wait to get started, can’t wait to run my fingers through Aimee’s hair and whisper that all will be okay. Shhh, I will say, and she will relax and close her eyes and rest and know that I am on duty and she is safe. But I don’t need a cool morning to imagine that. Any morning is a perfect morning for that.