It’s happening again. Another season is flashing by, like a series of blurry images from a train window, beyond the grasp of my full appreciation.
Summer and its dark green humid beauty came and went, without leaving much of an impression. Was it hot? I can’t really remember. Now it appears I’ve almost missed fall. I noticed today that the leaves of our little sassafras tree are past their yellow-gold prime. Some branches are already bare, and dry leaves litter the lawn.
Yesterday morning we awoke to a heavy frost. Even though I had the presence of mind to search out most of my cold-weather dog-walking clothes, they weren’t sufficient. Around noon, Kiko ventured outside and settled in a patch of sun-drenched pine straw by the fence. He didn’t last long. Soon he was back inside, in the warmest spot he knows, beside a heating vent beneath a sofa. Like me, he seems perplexed by, and unprepared for the sudden cold snap.
I’m not sure what has captured my complete attention recently. Nothing of substance, apparently. Mostly, I’ve been distracted by life’s tedious minutiae, which seems even more Byzantine than usual. Passwords need to be changed, credit cards updated. Familiar web sites are suddenly “new and improved.” (I don’t want new and improved; I want old and understandable.) Pin numbers, unnecessary before, must be created. In my volunteer work, simple emails are being replaced by drop boxes, google docs and Excel spreadsheets I can’t access. At every turn I need my daughter’s tech help. She’s rarely here, due to her junior year course load, drama commitments and social life. A trivial task that should take a few minutes somehow eats up most of an hour.
I’m surprised to look out the window and see the sun low in the sky, the lawn in shadow. I could go finish some project or other. I should probably start dinner.
What I’d rather do is cuddle up with Kiko, now snoozing warmly among the sofa pillows. Maybe it’s a good thing that winter is nearly upon us. Winter is the time for hibernating, and that strikes me as most inviting.
The leaves fall off the trees, the children leave home. Perhaps the roots grow stronger, perhaps you see the importance of your parents more clearly, perhaps you see the importance of yourself more clearly. After all, it does become clearer that time moves more swiftly as we move through the seasons and years.
Well said. And you’d think that the experience that comes with growing older would make us better able to accept change. While this is true in theory, it’s still hard to accept in the reality of day-to-day life.