An I Love poem for autumn
This inspired this which inspired this, (and you should write one too!)
I love cool mornings and warm days and unseasonably warm evenings.
I love switching to hot coffee with oat milk.
I love baking muffins and the smell of cinnamon from the kitchen.
I love soup.
I also love cheetos and Dr. Pepper but I never have those anymore.
I love abuelos walking down the street with their daily pan for comida. And knowing maybe they're having soup too.
I love Spanish kisses. I miss them.
I love the leaves changing color and falling to the ground. I love their crunch under my boots.
I love the Spanish autumn sunshine.
I love it as it comes through my window while I exercise.
I love fútbol practice at the park and partidos on Saturdays.
I love watering the houseplants.
I love discovering new growth.
I love the way people walk into a shop and say “buenos días” to no one in particular.
I love being no one in particular.
I also love being someone particular to Chris, Susanna and Austin.
I love that the Apostle John concludes his Gospel by saying, “Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.”
I love thinking about the Library of Congress and how there is one copy of everything ever published there. How many treasures, how much trash.
I love putting away the summer towels and getting out the winter blankets.
I love autumnal colors like pumpkin and rust.
I love cozy sweaters.
I love candlelight.
I love to invite friends over for a warm meal and a board game, or a cup of coffee and a pastry, or tea and dessert, to serve them and have them at our table, feeling welcome because they are.
I love books organized by spine color, spices organized alphabetically, and boxes organized by size.
I love my son's coach's effort to help the boys improve.
I love when a child reads.
I love when I see my daughter's baby face even though she's growing up.
I love that people live in space.
I love well-read women like all my grandmothers.
I love that someday I will be a well-read grandmother.
I love a houseplant sale.
I love an essay that makes me say, “me too.” I love (but also hate, ha) when I wish I’d written it myself.
I love a good word.
Love is a good word, don’t you think? There is so much to love in the world. I think it’s ok to overuse the word.