My name is Jean Barrett of Vienna. I am picking acorns out of the pachysandra and reflecting on my life. The baby has her first bad cold. Our 3-year-old son alternates between being contradictory and affectionate. My husband and I are getting over an argument. As I hear more acorns hitting the roof of the car, I realize that I am happier than I have ever been. Because we have these demanding children. Because we must struggle with an imperfect marriage. And because it is one of those warm, bright Sundays in autumn that I wish would never end.