Our family reunion trip in June was especially poignant. I will always remember the last evening's family dinner, sitting across the table from my cousin's smart, funny husband. His big smile and bigger laugh and funny stories are what I remember, and his loving, wistful words about my uncle and aunt who were his in-laws. To our shock he died very suddenly a few weeks ago. What a gift that last evening in Montana was. We might not have gone to Montana. It was a last minute decision. But we went. I am grateful for that and the time I got to spend with my far-flung family. Now that most of us are in our fifties and sixties, we understand more deeply how compelling the bond of a shared childhood is and treasure our shared memories.
Cooler mornings, longer shadows, but summer isn't over yet. Grabbing a sweater now, to sit on the deck with a glass of wine in the evening. Soon the school buses will be lumbering down our little road, and our Sofi girl will be off to Kindergarten, but summer isn't over yet. Not quite. Not yet.