Last evening I opened the laundry room window for some air. Normally, it's closed through the summer because the heat and humidity outside are far worse than the laundry room. But last evening, just as the sun was sinking into the tree-tops, the air felt just a bit fresher.
Elbows on windowsill I paused to enjoy it. I could still smell a faint hint of chlorine from the pool as it rested like a mirror out back. The crickets and cicadas chirped and droned on like so many late summer evenings. But the air was different. As I waited for the dryer, I listened and listened. I couldn't discern anything new or unusual, but something had changed--perhaps in the patterns, the urgency--maybe the laziness wasn't quite as lazy as it had been yesterday. It was so subtle that I couldn't put my finger on it until this morning.
As we left for the early morning school run, my son and I both shivered. It was only 60 degrees, after yesterday afternoon's 90. The overcast sky kept out the sun, the air was cool and dry, and a lone cricket sang hollowly. Only then did I understand what I had percieved last evening. This was the first taste of Fall. It would soon be time to say goodbye to Summer yet again, but now, right now is the time to cling to and fully savor each balmy day we have left before it's gone.