From the Coffee Table

I’m not sure how this happened, but somehow July is over. And just like that, it’s August. There’s something about this month that makes summer feel different. In June, summer feels fresh and new. In July, it still feels like there’s plenty of time. But August arrives, and suddenly you start paying a little more attention. You notice things. The warm breeze on the deck in the evening. The way the light turns everything golden just before sunset. A doe and her fawn wandering into the backyard. Because, of course, you have to stop whatever you’re doing and watch. You head out for a quick evening walk and come home much later than planned because you ran into a neighbor and stood there catching up on the day. The weather. The kids. The neighborhood. All the ordinary things that somehow feel better when they’re shared outside in the summer air. There’s no rush to get back inside. Maybe that’s what I love most about summer evenings. They give you a little more room. Room to linger. Room to ...

I could feel my blood pressure fall the minute we arrived at the lake. We hadn’t even untied the boat. My shoulders relaxed. My breathing slowed. It was as if my body let out a deep breath before my mind even realized it had been holding one. That surprised me. There wasn’t anything extraordinary about the weekend. We spent time on the boat, laughed with friends, ate good food, and caught up on life. Simple. But somewhere between the gentle breeze, the sound of the water, and conversations that didn’t have to end because no one was watching the clock, I realized something. I’d forgotten what calm felt like. I’ve always loved being near the water, but the older I get, the more I realize it’s not just because it’s beautiful. It’s because something about it quiets me. The emails can wait. The laundry isn’t going anywhere. For a little while, I stop thinking about everything that’s next and simply enjoy what’s right in front of me. It made me wonder … Maybe we all have a place like that. M...