Early this warm and muggy morning I headed to the grocery store to find things to make husband’s lunch for the weekend. He works 12 hours each day of this weekend, and there’s no cafeteria available. Flank steak, fresh green beans, roasted potatoes, salad with fresh tomatoes, Italian bread. Sounds good!

As I emerged from the frigid cold of the grocery store into the already sultry heat of the parking lot I was reminded of my mother who, even after living in Alabama for twenty-five years, was constantly surprised by the heat. The heat of an Alabama morning catches you off guard when you’ve lived most of your life in the Michigan north where mornings are generally fresh and cool. Mom used to giggle a bit when she’d catch herself surprised, say it never ceased to amaze her when she walked out of a concert hall late in the evening and found the outside air so much warmer than inside the air conditioned building. She’d forget, you see, that she lived in the deep South, and the warm air embracing her in the mornings and evenings was a friendly reminder of the big change she and Dad had made.

So this morning when I was surprised by the heat of the day so early I thought of Mom and giggled a bit to myself. Though I never lived in Alabama, have lived in Michigan my whole life, I felt, for just a minute, like I was home.