Nick and I are joining a gym. I'm quiet, gentle-seeming...but there's power there, oh yes, there's power. Though, after last week, when Nick went out of his way to irritate me during one of my first runs post surgery, I questioned the wisdom in instituting a workout routine with this man...

...And the circumstances by which a court would rule a homicide justifiable.

I've been very upbeat as of late...it's as though I've turned a corner, a crucial corner. I'm sure the endorphins don't hurt either, but it's more than that. My husband left last Autumn, not even a year ago, yet it seems like a lifetime away. I realized today that it was just that, the world spun differently then. I've also delighted in the advent of the American Quilt Days, as I call them. There's something homey and welcoming about a quilt, an article made by loving hands to keep you warm. It reminds me of an email Mom once sent when she wanted to send me a comforter for my bed. She said against my protests, "Nonsense - I want to do this for you - then, when you snuggle in at night, I am keeping you warm." As much as I love Summer, the Fall is the my favorite season...the crispness in the air, the warm, vibrant hues in the tapestry of our days—oh, I just love it all. Mom did too.

And it is one of my haunting conversations that I had with her one late October day in 2005, as she languidly navigated her car down an echoing avenue, the curled tawny leaves scuttling to and fro. She sighed romantically—we both had a tendency to paint the world pretty...only way to live—, "Oh, how I love the Fall!"

I sat shotgun, feeling the lowest I've ever felt...unwanted, unsure, struggling in vain. I mumbled, "I'll never love the Fall again," permanently putting a damper on her airy optimism. I remember it so clearly, for it is a statement I will always regret having made. I was my mother's cheerleader, and yet for a few weeks, I was a self-focused ninny. I know it was a statement that haunted her as well...and as the life began to leave her body in those final days, I wet her pillow with my tears and whispered, "What can I give you now?"

She opened her eyes, in her maze of being lucid and then not, and said with perfect clarity, "Love the Fall." It meant more than loving the time of year, it meant loving the fight in spite of the blows...it meant loving life. My brother has often struggled with depression, suicidal thoughts. They stopped when, early in my mother's diagnosis, he told her how much he wanted to die...she replied, "Hmm. And here I am wanting so much to live."

I noted this morning that three years ago today, September twenty-second, 2003, I flew in to surprise my mother before her surgery on the twenty-ninth, a week later. What came to follow was a difficult recovery and the opportunity to grow closer than ever to the woman who gave me life. I said in my words to her during the funeral that I didn't know real love until our roles were reversed, and I was her guardian, her caretaker, and her protector. I cannot share with you the beauty of such a responsibility...I can only tell you that we're not given more than we can handle, but we're often shielded from the breadth of our strength.

Tomorrow, if the rain stays away, I want to go to the Farmer's Market...I am craving squash and sweet potatoes—by the way, The States are confused. We have SWEET POTATOES here. Yams are seldom grown in the United States, and are mostly available in Latin America—and apples. Ah, Fall produce! Love it. As we had dinner the other night, Nick pushed the Brussels sprouts around his plate and relayed, "See, when I was young, our Brussels sprouts were coated in oil..." To which I apologized and reminded that I was a vegetable purest. Nick corrected on a near-snort, "You're a vegetable snob."

I can't take it too seriously. The man smells, head to toe, like pretzels. Pretzels are his after work snack. He shyly admitted only days ago that he attaches the pretzel sack like a feedbag to his face and gorges. Oh, Nicky...still has me laughing. It was a tender, cuddling moment when I noticed the scent behind his ears and, curious, began sniffing further. I was impressed with this pretzely presence.

I sit here and sigh, at a place of perfect contentedness in the face of recent upheaval. I guess it leads me to one conclusion:

I do love the Fall, I really do. Time to get back to me.