As I began writing on the Writing Porch, I felt a hint of fall in the air. Extremely hopeful it is 90 degrees. I know what is coming. Frank Sinatra told us that the days grow short when you reach September. Life is poetry with blips.

Nice people make living nice. MJ and I heard the lawn care folks cutting our grass early this morning. They came this afternoon. Prophecy. So I feel fall in the air just before it arrives…

We see it in the cloudy distance. The image is hazy but the feeling is real. Home is coming into view.

Mylo leads me into rooms of our house which I am walking towards. Each step or two he looks back to ensure that I have not lost my way. Such is our Guardian Angel’s purpose. We have the best intentions. We mean well. We get distracted.

Cool air envelopes us. Hot chocolate refreshes us. There is a special smell. Sounds remembered. Love reminded. Laughs often had. Secrets shared. Hopes achieved.

Knock we do. The front door opens. Our favorite meal is on the table. Music remembered but what is the title? No harsh feelings. No obsessive worry. Plenty of money. What is money? It is a big table. Friends of every color and faith. Familiar faces all. ‘We have been waiting for you,’ Friends say. ‘Pull up a chair…more are coming,’ Friends continue.

The house was small the table was miles long. It lengthed exponentially. It was over the horizon.

Tears come easy to a full heart. Too much joy to contain it leaks out. The promise is true…the Secret discovered…