I love this time of year, the time between heat and air conditioning, when the world is perfect exactly as it is.
Nights with open windows and cool breezes to secure us in peaceful sleep. Days with bright sunshine and clear blue skies, a slight breeze to keep the sun gaze from getting too hot. The kids take off for the playground, bouncing a ball along the sidewalk and taking their time walking there.
When they get home, they take out the blender and pull the last few lemons from the bowl on the table. They fill the blender with ice and sugar and squeeze the lemons, picking out the seeds. And they whir it together for a homemade cool refreshment that is pure as this current day.
This is the perfect time. It happens again in late fall, too, but by then we’re weather-weary and wanting.
Most of the year, we complain about our surroundings, when we really could change them at any time. There is no absolute perfect place to live. Every place becomes too much to take at moments and it’s perfect, too.
Perfection is, of course, in the eye of the beholder. There is the option to notice every weak link or the option to celebrate every last detail.
I choose the latter.
When things change, you see the negative ones posting all over the place their laments on oh woe is me, why can’t everything stay the same forever?
And then there are the people that wish for change, wanting everything to be different, right now, and in a moment and in another moment, too.
Why not just embrace the here and now, the absolute beauty, the discovery that where we are at this moment is divinely perfect?
Because it is.