The Kindness of...

I'm completely, almost overwhelmingly exhausted today. Beat. Dog tired. Drained. Weary. Bleary eyed. Painfully sleepy. Nap-deprived. Ready to drop. (And yes, for those of you keeping count, I did in fact check the MWC for "other words for....")

Before you get too sympathetic, let me express that this is (mostly) my own fault. Yes, I admit it. I was one of the many, many women who, late into last night, could be found sitting in a theater watching the New Moon premiere.

Disclaimer: I've always been a Wolf Girl (those of you who knew me when will find it no surprise that I could blame it on David Eddings, waaay back in 1982), so the fact that Jake and his pack of very cool (huge) wolves are prominently featured in this movie (with more than a liberal dose of eye-candy) made this a Must-See-at-Midnight-with-3,000-Other-Crazy-Females Event. Plus, I missed last year's midnight Twilight movie fest (blame Grif), so I had to go to this one. Plus, did I mention that I'm a Wolf Girl? And these wolves were....wow. Seriously.

Second Disclaimer: I could not have known that the theater would have ridiculous technical difficulties and that our midnight movie would, in fact, not start until after 1 a.m. Putting me home near 4 a.m.

So, I'm tired. More than a little cranky, but really just bone tired. And as always when I'm wrapped up in my own little (feeling-sorry-for-myself-cuz-I'm-sleepy) world, the universe sends me a little nudge. A wee message. Gentle reminder. Genuine kindness. From a stranger.

He wasn't homeless. Or crazy. Or creepy. Looked like he was on his way to work. Casual. Nice. I didn't even pass him -- we were more on a perpendicular path with each other as I crossed in front of him. So there was absolutely no reason why I should turn and look at him over my shoulder at the point when I was very nearly out of range for both eye contact and a verbal exchange. But I did. Looked back, that is. For some reason (ah, here comes the coincidence excuse...we know better). And he very clearly looked right at me and said happily, "Good Morning!" Exclamation included.

I replied with a short toss of quick-grinned "hi!" over my shoulder, but kept walking. At this point we were on the same compass point, me walking north, he directly behind me, 10 feet away and heading east. But he kept talking...

"You know, I wanna tell you," he said, stopping in his tracks. "You have a very blessed day." Same smile. Same genuine happiness. Deliberate. Directed entirely at me. Just me.

I couldn't help but stop as well, turned nearly all the way around to look him in the eye, and with absolute honesty and now a huge smile said, "You do the same."

And that was it. He went his way, I mine. But with one unexpected remark, one effort toward a stranger he will probably never again see, let alone talk to, he changed my entire morning. And perhaps my whole exhaustively long day. I still felt the too-much-buttered-movie-popcorn-plus-vat-of-coke stomach sourness. But I felt oddly light, and refreshed. And happy. Why did he bother? Why did I? But truly, what an amazing way to start my oh-so-tired day.

Am I reading too much into this brief, innocent exchange? Probably. Not. Maybe. Doesn't really matter though, does it? It is what I make it. It is what I choose to hear. It is what I take away from it. And pass on to someone else. Like you.

So hey. Hi. Smile. And have a very blessed day. Really. Feels good, no?

Indian Summer

As a full-time editor, I bow down to (read, am obsessed with) the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary. It's the one I turn to first with all my questions -- hyphen or no? One word or two? Usage? Let's check. The fact that the new B&N Nook has MWC as its programmed dictionary of choice is really one of the more convincing checks in its favor (and probably the final deciding buying factor) over Kindle. Yes, this is how much I respect this reference book.

And so, as I typed in the title for this post, I then checked the MWC entry for Indian Summer (habit? curiosity? chance? inspiration? call it what you will). Indian Summer: a period of warm or mild weather in late autumn or early winter. Of course, we knew this. What I didn't know (or had forgotten) was this -- also defined as a happy or flourishing period occurring toward the end of something. Interesting.

Thursday, Griffin and I celebrated what I'm calling this area's brief (but oh so lovely) Indian Summer. We put on our jackets, turned our faces to the sun, and took what was probably this year's final walk around the neighborhood.

It was such a glorious evening. I was a bit sad that my husband was not with us -- although he had just spent the last two days in Bermuda (swimming pools, movie stars) -- but I know he would have gladly given that up to take this final walk with us. And for some reason, I chose to take the camera -- not being the world's best photographer, and being solo trying to get Grif to sit still, look at me AND smile would have been less of a challenge if Jim had been along. But it was fun. We laughed, we looked at the leaves, we gawked at cars (mostly Grif did this), we listened to the sound of lawn mowers and summer's end.

Everything with him is so bittersweet. He makes my heart ache, and that day was no exception. He's so gorgeous, that child. So happy. It amazes me that he can inspire such overwhelming joy in my heart while bringing instant tears to my eyes with the sorrow that I miss so may of his days. I just want to scoop him up and cuddle with him forever -- he looks at you with those huge blue eyes...and then he smiles...and words don't describe how that fills my heart so full.

So, Indian Summer. The true end of summer. The nearing of the end of fall. Winter is coming...and yet this time for me is full, so full of the new things that the boy can do every day -- his new discoveries, his new sounds, I see so much through his eyes (and in his eyes).

A happy or flourishing period occurring toward the end of something...I'm nearing the end of my first year of working full-time with a child (and hopefully nearing the end of this as well -- my official plea to the Universe to help me be able to soon work part-time instead). We've passed the end of his first year of life...nearing the end of this first new year full of the crazy days and long nights of a life changed (so completely, so wholly) by this boy. Nearing the end of what I would probably officially call his "babyhood." Nearing the end of so many "firsts." Nearing the end with (hopefully) grace, a little more patience, a few tears (of course) and complete wonder for what comes next. Happy? Decidedly. Flourishing? Every day. But oh so bittersweet. And as a mother (and a lover of words), I think bittersweet does just as well in defining Indian Summer. A wee bit bitter (endings always are) but so very, very sweet.