Last of September

Cinnamon leaves a residue on the inside of the white mug. Stippled lines circling into the surface liquid of warm milk and espresso. Guess what else leaves a residue? Leaving. All the things in the rear view mirror of my soul. It's even harder and more poignant when I know what I'm leaving for is all I've wanted. I left home for the last time on Sunday afternoon. My mom always complains when I cling to her in a hug, but she clung on to this hug. The sun was warmer, the sky higher and bluer, the air crisp and sweet when I drove down the road to something new. When I entered Ohio my soul settled. This is the right thing. The roads are opening before me. God is smiling down over us all.

Autumn is Ohio to me. Spring and summer and winter are Indiana but autumn is Ohio to me. The first red and yellow leaves, the quickening sunsets, the rainy mornings belong to Ohio in my mind and my memory. The copper couch and latte, the cemeteries, the fires in the woods--they belong to Ohio. I am thrilled to spend the first months of newness in a season so familiar to me.

I have no poem. I have only this pain of ending and this excitement of beginning, this solid feeling of knowing my heart is home with this man and our God.

The nuptials commence this Sunday. I will write you all later. Come along, wits and fuzzy slippers. Time to accomplish today's goal. Time to smile. Time to crunch some leaves.