I shuffle through a day, papers, conversations. There but not. Now is the time of year the air cools our minds and we soon forget how oppressive the heat could be. The sun is no longer our enemy and the moon becomes our lover. It is a welcome change. I don't want to miss it. I pray for a million of these.
At the same time now is when I need to predict, need to write a story of where we will be in the seasons of the future. Data, trends, passing conversations, life as we know it translated into life as we will know it. Numbers weave tales and rumors affect. I think this is supposed to be my strong point, an analytical intuition, the making of the hypothesis.
The leaves will change colors. I will notice the yellows and the reds first. Before long there will be a crunch to our walks. The days will become shorter and I will pull into the driveway in darkness. Warm winter foods, thick socks, cuddled up in blankets we will then claim as our own. We will begin to see our breath and bed, oh sweet dear warm lovely bed, it will be hard to leave you.
Now it feels like a new year where resolutions are made in the faith our past predicts our future and history is here to educate. Unless, of course, we look around us and decide to change with the season.
I am grateful for the choice.
I am grateful for today.