I wandered outside this morning just before the sun rose. The chilly 40-something degree weather caused me to zip up my jacket. I looked up into the pale blue. The sky was partly cloudy, a half-moon hanging in the sky like a divided sugar cookie. As I ran up the hill, fog engulfed me. I could literally see it floating down from the sky like a fuzzy blanket.
As I turned east, I could see the sun. It had crested the horizon and sat in stillness, a valiant yellow blur. Very few cars passed me and only three pedestrians, one running like me.
I’d forgotten how beautiful and peaceful these mornings can be. The hanging baskets, newly hung in anticipation of summer and the impending Forest Festival, garnished my running route. They look small now, blossoms barely overhanging the baskets. But by October, they’ll be stuffed and overflowing with fragrant flowers.
I walked Ruby to school this morning. As I hurried her along, the sun picked out the sparkly dot-to-dot of slug tracks. Pink rhododendrons blushed along the road. Birds flitted and landed above us.
“Look, Mom! Over there,” Ruby pointed.
A dog, curly tail wagging, partially obscured by tall grass, was taking himself for a walk. I could feel his happiness a half a block away. I smiled. In that moment, I felt grateful.
I wonder about our kids. I remember with great regret some of the mistakes I’ve made. I’ve apologized as well as I know how and tried to learn from my errors. I pray our kids will grow to be like those overstuffed baskets, scenting the world around them with acts of joy, peace and love.