This time of year, every few days we get a cool front and the air is fresh and crisp.  Michael would always say to me, “this is my dear’s kind of weather” because he knew how much I enjoyed these days after a long hot summer.  Sometimes he’d ask me to go out and get the morning paper.  When I’d come in empty-handed because I couldn’t find it, I’d see him already reading it.  He’d smile and say “don’t it feel gooood out there?”.  And so often we’d go for a ride in the car, to no place in particular, with the windows down, just to enjoy the day.

Now I know lots of folks who would never ride around with the windows down for fear of messing up their hair.  But that never bothered me.  As a matter of fact, it’s become one of my “philosophies of life” —  I’d rather arrive somewhere with my hair messed up, than miss out on feeling the wind as I drove to get there.  And when we did arrive Michael would always be the one to tell me if my hair was sticking up or out.  Not that he cared; but he knew that I appreciated the help.

That same philosophy has bled over into other areas of my life as well.  Like not minding a few dirty dishes in the sink.  Or some finger prints on the windows.  Now don’t get me wrong, I do like my house to be clean.  And I have great friends whom I so admire because their homes are always so neat and put-together, and their appearance is always to a T.  But somehow I just have never gotten myself worked up enough to fuss over these things.  I’d rather be busy doing fun stuff – like reading a book, taking a walk, watching a movie, cleaning my purse, having a root canal – most anything overrules housework for me.  ( I recently had a friend tell me she thought we would get along well because I invited her over when I had dirty dishes in the sink.)

These days the cool mornings remind me especially of Michael.  And I miss how anxious he would be to get up to the farm and work in the pastures.  How he’d love to see the hay all baled up in big rolls.  And how he’d gather the firewood and stack it as high as he could reach in anticipation of those fires he would build for me.  And I miss our drives to nowhere in particular with the windows down.

So if you see me around town, at church or out to dinner and my hair is a little mussed — just know that I’ve been riding with the windows down.