I'm going to have to do it. I'm going to have to put my fingers on the page, lifting it up and over, turning to September. School, schedules, activities, the cold settling in and stealing Summer, making it seem even shorter than it was.
Minnesota is as abrupt as she is indecisive, when it comes to the changing of seasons.
I love the Fall colors, the crisp leaves underfoot on long walks, and the need for a cozy sweater. I love that Fall means I'm about to pull out more blankets, throwing them over our beds, soft and colorful, something that feels new.
But so soon?
I don't like that Fall means Winter is peeking it's huge noggin around the corner of the next calendar page, ready to pounce, stealing the beautiful colors from the trees, making their visit even shorter, and then staying just a moment long enough to steal my sanity. Winter is no friend of mine.
So I'll think of the good things, I'll focus on how I love the structure of the school year, how it arrives and tells me that I'm...Expected. Responsible. Capable. Up in the morning and out the door, maybe even getting Miles to school on time. September says I can do that, so I'll try.
Even though I'll be missing the sun-kissed skin on my Summer busy boys and our long days by the water in the heat. I'll miss them exactly as they were this Summer. And on the first day of school, I'll be letting go of one of them just a little bit more and my heart will break. Again, over the passing of time. A new school year, the new season, pulling him from me...
Let's get this straight. Your stark contrasts have arrived with a chill in the air and an early darkening evening sky. You come and you steal much and then you give much. You are as fickle as I am.
You're yet another culprit, a player in this conspiracy to speed the years that my children are under my roof. You're one of the four, the starkly different seasons that add beauty and life to all our days. The seasons that speak loudly of time slipping away, rushing me through this part of my mothering journey. These early years, like Summer, slipping. And then your flashes of beauty push me into the next stage, with the force and feeling of a cold front.
So I'm a little bit mad at you, Autumn.
And yet I love you.
Please stay long and color much. I'll forgive you and embrace you, as much as I can.
Give Spring my love, tell Summer I'll miss her, but please, no word of this to Winter.
(photo courtesy of flickr)