Sepia

This is my very favorite weather.

It is both hot and windy. As I sit here on my deck I close my eyes and let my other senses take over. The sun heats my skin like holding an open palm near a flame. If I turn my face I can see the bright sunlight, golden through my closed lids. The breeze is warm. It feels soft, gentle and somehow nostalgic. It doesn't bring a chill, like a spring breeze, but it keeps the heat of the sun from becoming overbearing.

The wind blows through a neighboring oak tree. The leaves swish and rustle and a nearby wind chime sings. The little waterfall in my backyard pond bubbles happily and a myriad of birds call to one another. In the distance there is the hum of a passing car and perhaps a distant lawn mower.

My metal deck chairs are warm (almost hot) to the touch and I smile thinking of the hours they've spent soaking up today's sunlight. How many days have these chairs sat frigid and wet under a moody gray sky?

I hear the train and a neighbor's voice. I think of my grandmother. When she was my age it was 1941 and I wonder if a hot, summer afternoon didn't feel the same then. Maybe the cars were fewer, and perhaps louder. And I'm quite sure she didn't have a string of electric lights, small, clear glass bulbs, strung around the railing of her deck. But the birds and the train... the heat of the sun and rush of the water... the wind chimes and the endless blue of the sky... were these not the same?? I smell warm wood and the sweet freshness of the river nearby. I bat away a pesky fly. Did she ever sit and close her eyes and drink it in? I hope she did.

Often when I imagine times gone by I picture the world in sepia tones. But as I sit here on my deck today, I realize that her world was as bright and colorful as mine, and to her nothing about life was old-fashioned. She couldn't see how the world was going to drastically change, just like I can't. I don't see these days, my life, as being the "olden days", or primitive in any way. But my grandchildren likely will. They will chuckle at my laptop and cell phone and marvel at my string of string of electric bulbs that surround my deck. My music will be played on the "oldies" station and the height of our technology will be like cassette tapes and rotary-dial phones.

So before I return to my kitchen... the dirty dishes, and Costco groceries that I've yet to put away. Before I retreat into the air-conditioned, plug my computer back in and set my iPod to my favorite playlist. Before I begin the tasks that I need to finish to prepare for my daughter's birthday party tomorrow... maybe I could just close my eyes one more time. Feel the warm summer wind, listen to the music of the birds and the waterfall, breathe deep the fragrance of today... MY today... and perhaps see my world, for a moment, in sepia tones.

Anniversary

Tomorrow I will have been married to my best friend for 16 years. Those words are so easy to write, but it's nearly impossible to grasp all the meaning that lies within them.

16 years. Nearly half my life. I got married when I was 20, barely more than a child. I had a 2 year old and a baby on the way. And this 21 year old BOY took my hand, and the hands of my children, and promised his life to us. His friends were partying or going to college, but this boy of mine went off to work. He managed to land an entry-level sales job (with NO prior experience and no college degree) and within four months he was the top sales guy! He learned to change diapers and he kept my car clean. He ate everything I tried to cook (LOTS of hamburger helper) and he never complained. He paid all the bills and drove a crappy car so that I could stay home with our kids. He watched me get chubby and frumpy and cranky, and yet he still came home every night after work. And 2 years after our wedding we had baby number 3.

It wasn't perfect. We lost the romance in the trenches of raising babies. He didn't know how to speak my "love language" and I felt lonely and neglected at times. I didn't see that each time he vacuumed my car or cleaned up the dishes he was saying "I love you".

We grew up together during those years. My "boy" became a man. He raised my son (who wasn't "his" by birth) as though he was, and then legally adopted him when he was 14. He sacrificed material things so that we could send our kids to private school. He read the bible and pursued God. He sought Truth with a passion and endeavored to become a man that honored God not just in word, but in deed. He stuck by me when things got rough and I nearly lost my way.

Sometimes this man of mine would get frustrated because the house was messy. Instead of picking up the children's books, he would kick them under the couch or the coffee table. (Out of sight, out of mind!) This drove me crazy!! But he always kept the yard nice. And when I went to a women's retreat one weekend he did 10 loads of laundry while I was gone!

He doesn't give me back rubs, or write me love letters, or surprise me with creative dates. But he KNOWS me and he loves me anyway. He works hard and has taken me on fabulous vacations. He ASKS me before he plans a night with "the guys". He leaves work early to make it to a football game, dance recital or a wrestling match so that our kids know they are valued and supported. He still never complains about my cooking! He encourages me to pursue my dreams. He his insanely generous with his money. And occasionally... he remembers to tell me that I'm the most beautiful girl at the party.

We don't always see eye to eye. These last few years of raising teenagers have been especially rough. We have yelled and screamed (ok... maybe I have yelled and screamed) and we both have spent a night or two on the couch. We have broken each other's hearts and said things that we've regretted. But he STILL comes home every night after work. He STILL keeps my yard nice and our bills paid. He STILL makes it to the sporting events and works hard at his job. And even during a season of trial and frustration, he indulged me and the kids with a trip to Mexico for a week so that we could "play" as a family.

He lets me crank my obnoxious music while I'm in the shower, and he knows when to pour me a glass of wine. He watches LOST and American Idol with me and even voted for HOURS with me so that David Cook would win Season 7!! He makes up silly nicknames for me and makes up ridiculous songs about every random thing. He sends me text messages that make me smile.

My husband is not a perfect man, but I know that he is perfect for me. His rough edges make me sharper and his strengths balance my weaknesses. I am proud to hold his hand or walk beside him in public, and I know that he is a man that my kids can look up to.

I hope and pray that I will have the privilege of growing old with this man. There are so many things that I still want to experience in this life, and I want it to be HIM that I experience them with! I know he will be a hilarious and crotchety and generous old man... and I know that he will still need me to be the yin to his yang.

Happy anniversary, Baby. You are still the sexy boy in my math class, the coolest Dad on the block, the man I respect, and my very best friend!! I love you.