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I find myself in a contemplative mood in the fall. The season is changing and my life must change too. As I contemplate the last of my children leaving home I can not hold them close enough. I want these days to last forever. Yet each season must end before another can begin. I am not ready. I want to hold on. For we watch them leave home in autumn. Now we are at the curtain waving good-bye. Now we are the ones breathing a sigh. As trees lose their leaves in the brisk mountain air - limbs become sullen, dark, and bare. Then flowing like honey to the valley floor, the season reappears and gives us more. Crimson, copper, and gold all about, as if to say good-bye with a majestic shout. Each day is fleeting like a leaf on the wind - yet as one season passes, another begins. Like wind through the forest or small grains of sand, the boy we once knew has become a man. Now our little girl, once covered in lace, becomes a new mother and takes our place. Cycle of living, season of song, embraces and whispers, "Life goes on." |
