So much has swallowed me up this past year. And I wonder if I’m ready to morph like the leaves outside my window.
My spirit is ready for Autumn with its cooler days and the crisp evening air. I see trees beginning to welcome the changing tides as their leaves morph into shades of orange, yellow, and red – colors that burst in the blink of an eye. Some have already fallen, tired from the haul of an unpredictable summer. They are ready to be repurposed and make way for seasons yet to come.
I hear them crinkle under my feet as I slog along, wondering what the days will bring and finding a way to make peace with the present. It isn’t easy navigating through the dense fog that sometimes seeps into life. It can be tumultuous trying to see but freeing when you find your way. That glimmer rises as the light passes through the thickness you’ve been breathing.
I suppose that’s why I welcome the turn of each season – they symbolize change. And even though, at times, I quarrel with the certainty of it, there’s a sanctity that comes with it. Each season offers a respite of sorts – from what was before but now exists slightly different.
This hot and erratic summer has made me appreciate the quiet slumber that often follows. I strayed from my typical summer of sun and watched as the rain carried away my thoughts. I longed many days to feel the sun on my face, only to find that the gloomy days kept me focused on something else.
My fingers continue to tap away at keys that bring thoughts to life – some so random and other parts and pieces that can become whole. I wrestled with summer this year – an internal conflict that kept me pushing hard against a barrier that kept me stuck. But, ever so slowly, it leads me somewhere else.
I’ve yet to discover this place, but the words keep me steady. Something must. So why not one of the things that brings some clarity? I’ve learned how much I love the early morning solitude that welcomes me. And I’ve turned it into my writing time. It’s taken the place of something else that I need to return to. And I will gradually find my way back to it. But I’m not sure I’m ready yet.
So much has swallowed me up this past year. And I wonder if I’m ready to morph like the leaves outside my window.
Am I prepared to release what brought me to this point of acknowledgment? Or do I keep it tucked away in a draft folder, knowing I did it?
As Autumn nears, I sense the shift. The signs subtly make their presence known. And I wonder what I will do with them.
Time will tell, I suppose.
