We closed the windows in the house this week. We haven’t yet turned on the heat, but there’s a noticeable chill in the air when we walk out to the bus stop each morning. Our breath is visible as we exhale in the natural rhythm of life.
October is a magical time. The shifting of seasons can’t be denied. (At least, not if you live in a place that has four seasons. I’ve never lived anywhere that didn’t.) Temperatures drop. Sweatshirts are added to the wardrobe. And pumpkin everything takes top billing on menus and grocery shelves. Football is king.
But it’s also the time of year when hope begins to bubble up anew. At least it does if you’re a baseball fan. (And if you’re not a baseball fan, I hope I won’t lose you here.)
My husband and I are lifelong Chicago Cubs fans. In case you miss the significance of that statement, let me clarify: We have waited our whole lives, and our parents have waited their whole lives, for this team to make it to the World Series. October baseball beyond the last weekend of the regular season is never a guarantee, so when it happens to your team, it’s like the beginning of the season all over again.
Read the rest of this post over at Putting on the New, where I write on the 12th of every month.