The weather is perfect. My window is open--for the first time this summer, I might add--and suddenly I feel transported back to the porch swing at the Jefferson house in Kirksville on a late September evening.
Katie and Jenna are in and out, stopping for a few minutes to breathe in the air before heading to small groups or leadership meetings. The leaves on the tree in front of the porch screen are beginning to turn gold on the edges, and that guy with the flopping combover just jogged past me, making me smile.
In my mind, I see Craig, Keith, and Evan out walking, perhaps to visit Matt, Matthew, Joe, and Chase at the Porch house down the street. Kate just hugged me from behind, planting an affectionate kiss on my head before heading upstairs to write a psychology paper. I see Liz in the living room studying from her nursing books, and Ally just sat down next to me to hug me and ask what she can pray about for me. Andrea and Sunshine are coming over later to watch chickflicks, eat killer brownies, and have a gigglefest.
Suddenly, I have a double-whammy, paradoxical craving for quiche and chai tea lattes at JavaCo and a classic La Pachanga taco salad and frozen margarita. I have the urge to walk down to the square and peruse through one of the used book stores or see what's playing at the Downtown Cinema 8. I could walk to campus and see who I randomly run into that I haven't seen since freshman year. I'd love to sit in the sunken garden with a good book and smell the distinctly sweet, rotting perfume of leaves and undergrowth. I wonder if Brantley and Jason are going to form a game of Capture the Flag down on the grassy knoll between Pershing and Barnett Hall.
I'll never forget.