Late Summer

 

 

 

Just on principle, I am opposed to praise songs. But right now, an album a friend recorded is playing. It’s the two-year-old’s favorite music. ┬áSo for me, it’s like having my friend give a mini-concert in my living room (albeit, again and again and again and…).

 

And the afternoon sun is slanting in the sky with that feel, that particular atmosphere of Fall-on-it’s-Way.

 

Cicadas are whirring, the five-year-old coming back in the house, nose stuck in a book.

 

I have a fall-ubiquitous pumpkin-flavored latte to hand.

 

The two-year-old’s playtime toy–a bag of rice–is spread out all over the floor.

 

Nonetheless, this is one of those vignettes I’d like to bottle up, to paint, to record, to add to my memories of other Late Summer poignancies.