My Opinion

Technically, it’s still another month until summer is official. Technically. 

But at night, when I wander the sidewalks of my neighborhood with the pups and the fragrance of magnolia blossoms mingles with the scents of a backyard cookout in the warm air, I can’t help but think it’s here. 

I love summer. It’s my favorite. Winter is cold and dark, spring is all heady anticipation, and fall always feels a little ominous. But summer is long sun-drenched days and warm skin and cool swims and the smell of wisteria and the sound of lawn mowers on early mornings. I love the thick warm air that stretches into the night and the way asphalt is still warm to the touch long after the sun has set. I love the tastes of summer. Voluptuous tomatoes, luscious blueberries, succulent sweet corn. Proof that Mother Nature has a sybaritic side. 

So, while it’s not technically correct, I’m counting this Memorial Day weekend as summer’s arrival. And I’m pretty excited about it. 

Last night I had a meeting with three women. We’re working together on some rebranding/marketing for an organization with which we all volunteer. 

We gathered at a corner table in a Panera where we’ve met in the past. I feel humbled just to sit at a table with these women. They all have that combination of authentic selflessness and thoughtfulness that’s so elusive in this world of clamoring self-promotion (see: blogs called “In My Opinion”). 

But one of the women in particular has struck a chord. She’s the founder of the organization. And she is amazing. The organization exists because she saw people in need and refused not to help. That’s inspiring. But it’s actually not entirely what makes me so grateful to have crossed paths with her. 

As we sat at the table, me checking my phone and pulling up lists and trying to figure out where on my calendar I was going to squeeze in the time to complete this project, she broke in to my anxious thoughts and commented that she didn’t even care if nothing came from all of these meetings. I looked up from scrolling through emails, surprised. 

“To me, I’ve learned that everything really is about the journey,” she said, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she grinned at us all. “I’m so excited to have these few hours with the three of you. This moment is the important thing. I’m enjoying this so much.”

Let me remind you that we were sitting in a Panera talking about branding strategies. But all of the sudden I felt something shift inside me. What she said wasn’t particularly revolutionary, but I could tell that she really meant it. For her, living in the moment wasn’t—as it so often is—an excuse for a fear of the future or a way to ignore the past. It was a deep gratitude for life—all of it. 

In months of paying a therapist to tell me things to make me feel less anxious nothing has come close to the peace I felt instantly from this woman’s simple delight in the present. Turns out, she was exactly right. I believe good products will come from these meetings, but the most important thing for me was actually that precise moment.