It couldn't be more beautiful today in Chicago. The temperature is in the high seventies, flirting with eighty degrees, and the sky is blue from horizon to horizon. I rolled the windows down as I cruised on the expressway, heading north to Gand, where I stopped to chat about baseball and the almost concluded season with Bob. Then back in the car, windows down again, as the detour on the frontage road forced me out of my way to exactly where I wanted to be, as I drove down a quietly winding road through the forest preserve.
A few more turns, then back on the expressway, cruising back to work, classic rock playing on the radio.
The work will always be there waiting for you, but there are only a finite number of perfect summer days. And winter will arrive too soon.