In the blog world, people are discussing the coming of fall. Indeed, there is a refreshing chill in the air every morning, and I do love sweatshirt and jeans weather.
I feel fortunate for all of the blessings I have in my life and I treasure the idea of the seasons changing. However, watching this summer slip away has left me with a pervasive sense of melancholy. The days go by so quickly.
I have been swept up in a streak of nostalgia. I’m revisiting old music, reconnecting with old friends via email, lovingly remembering good times that are gone. It amazes me how much younger I look in photos taken just three years ago. But when I think of all that I have learned about life in the past three years…it seems fitting that those lessons left their mark in some way.
I have been contemplating the idea of my own aging in a way I never have before. Beyond wrinkles. This summer slipped through my fingers before I quite had a chance to grasp it. How many more summers will do the same? How many summers will I be blessed with in this life?
When one day closely resembles the last, it’s easy to become complacent. But when the seasons are changing right before your eyes, the passing of time is harder to ignore.
How do you feel about the coming of fall?
It is our nature not only to see
that the world is beautiful
but to stand in the dark, under the stars,
or at noon, in the rainfall of light,
wringing our hands,
half-mad, saying over and over:
what does it mean that the world is beautiful–
what does it mean?
-Mary Oliver, “The Leaf and the Cloud”