Sunday Sunlight and the Serenity of a September Stride

Hello, friends. I am sitting here at the kitchen table with a glass of iced tea, watching the sunlight stretch long shadows across the floorboards of our little blue house. Mark is out back with Biscuit, throwing the ball until that sweet dog collapses in the grass, and the house feels heavy with that specific Sunday afternoon peace. It is just before six, and I wanted to check in with you all before the chaos of the Monday morning rush begins again.

My morning started with my usual Sunday call from Mom. Diane always seems to know exactly when I have finished my coffee and am ready to talk. We spent forty minutes on the phone discussing her garden and my upcoming nine-year anniversary with Mark. She reminded me that nine years is a 'sturdy' number—not quite a decade, but solid enough to lean on. It got me thinking about how much of our lives are built on that kind of sturdiness, the kind you don't notice until you really stop to look at it.

After we hung up, I laced up my sneakers for my longest run of the week. Training for the Cedar Falls Harvest 5K in October has become such a grounding part of my routine. Today, I pushed myself to hit four miles. As I ran past Joanne’s house, I saw her out there in her signature pink bathrobe, fussing over her petunias. She waved a gloved hand at me, and I felt that surge of pride that comes from being 'the girl who runs' in the neighborhood now. It’s a small identity, but it’s mine.

The air was crisp today, a reminder that summer is slowly handing over the keys to autumn. As I reached the three-mile mark, my legs felt heavy, but I thought about the self-worth I’ve been building with every mile. It isn't just about staying in shape or fitting into the jeans I wore three years ago; it is about the internal proof that I can do hard things. I am learning that my value isn't tied to how much I get done, but to the fact that I keep showing up for myself.

When I got back, Emma was at the kitchen table, completely lost in her own world. She was supposed to be doing a little math review before school tomorrow, but I found her math worksheet covered in intricate sketches of horses. She has this way of blending reality with her imagination that I just can't bring myself to discourage. I sat with her for a moment, smelling the scent of the Sweet Magnolia rolls Megan dropped off after our pickleball game yesterday, and just felt grateful for these quiet glimpses into her heart.

Noah, on the other hand, was anything but quiet. He has been stomping around in his velociraptor pajamas all afternoon, insisting that he is a 'very hungry hunter.' It’s funny how a four-year-old can be so sure of who he is. Watching him reminded me of that letter I wrote to my twenty-five-year-old self a few months ago. I think that younger version of Lucy would be surprised to see me now—a bit more tired, perhaps, but so much more settled in my own skin.

I also spent about an hour in my 'candle corner' today. After the excitement of those ten orders earlier this week, I needed to take stock of my supplies for Lucy’s Little Light. Checking the finances for my Etsy shop always gives me a little thrill of independence. It isn't a fortune, but it’s mine. It represents the slow, steady growth of a dream that I used to keep tucked away in the back of my mind, too afraid to let it breathe.

Mark came in earlier and caught me looking at the ledger. He didn't say much—he’s never been a man of many words—but he squeezed my shoulder and told me he was proud of me. In that moment, I felt that familiar spark of desirability that often gets lost in the talk of mortgages and grocery lists. It’s nice to be seen as more than just the person who keeps the house running; it’s nice to be seen as a woman with her own fire.

Tomorrow is a Monday, which means the week starts in earnest. I don't have a shift at Miller's Hardware until Tuesday, so I’m planning to spend tomorrow morning finishing a new batch of Autumn Spice candles. I want the house to smell like home when the kids get back from school. There is something so healing about working with my hands, feeling the wax melt and the wicks stand tall.

I hope you all had a Sunday that filled your cup. Whether you spent it running miles or just resting on the couch, I hope you know that you are enough exactly as you are. We are all just doing our best to balance the checkbooks of our lives, both financial and emotional. Take a deep breath, ladies. We’ve got this.

The sun is almost down now, and I can hear Noah roaring from the hallway, which means it’s time to start the bedtime routine. I’m going to tuck my robin-egg-blue journal away and head into the fray. I love you. — Lucy