Transitions

Summer nights and fall mornings have the same effect on me.

Summer nights are when the unapologetic burn of the day finally gives way to clouds and shadow. The tyrannical warm air lingers, but inescapably charmed by the gentle coolness of the evening, grudgingly shifts to share the space. Nights of bright summer constellations, warm breezes and cricket symphonies create a lush oasis for lonely hearts fresh out of a winter solstice. Nights like that drive you desire touch, to seek company, even just a hand to hold, as nobody should trek through such beauty unaccompanied.

Fall mornings are the same.

They offer the bright clarity of summer with the crisp nose of winter. That whiff of chilliness starts you thinking about hoodie sweatshirts and Friday night football. You realized that Starbucks has purchased their weight in Pumpkin Spice syrup and you know that Christmas will be here before you can blink again. There's enough of a chill in the first few hours of daytime that you don't want to get out of bed, and certainly don't want to leave the house. When it's slightly cold, you wish it was colder, and that you had no place to be. You wish that your only appointments were with a book and a cup of cocoa, and even them, not till early afternoon. Most of all, you wish that the most fantastic creature God ever created was in bed next to you, really believing that you look perfect when you wake up in the morning, wanting to do nothing but be beside you until you both of you feel like getting out of bed.

At least that's what I wish.