Sunday, August 06, 2017

autumn and loss

In fall and winter, I always feel the weight of loss more than other times of the year. The days are shrinking...last night it was past twilight at 8:30 and this morning it was dark until after 6. I'm already missing the light.

I have lost friends. A teaching friend, an internet breast cancer friend, the mom of my oldest friend. Why, when the leaves on the apple tree start to yellow and drift down, do I think of them more often?

Summer has gone fast and I have done what I usually do. I have made plans and I have had good intentions but I'm not so good at at the follow-through. I have learned to forgive myself in advance. I tell myself: Yeah that's a good idea but I probably won't get it done so let it go. Some things I am able to advance past the planning stage. I have two packages on the table almost ready to mail. This is a multi-step project at which I suck.

I have been able to spend a lot of time with my newest grandbaby, something for which I will always be grateful. I was working when the others were born so their babyhood seemed to fly past and was only marked by holidays and birthdays. Being there to see Easton learn to sit, learn to grab cereal off the tray with his tiny fingers, learn to blow bubbles with his mouth...those have been precious moments.

I have been a slacker when it comes to writing the last year or so. I have good intentions but if you look at my archive, I have periods where I am more prolific than I have been lately. I know what the reasons are: Trying to write for an audience, trying to write about everything, and loss of habit.

Four things have happened in the last few days to encourage me to start writing more. Jill encouraged me to print some of my posts, Marne at River Rock complimented the writing I did while I worked there, Kathryn complimented my Facebook posts, and a very kind stranger took the time to write a comment on the post from last week.

So, here I am at the beginning of my habit again. I am in my cozy office, I lit a candle, the curtains are open so I can see the gray August sky, and I have let the things I need to do be wiped from my slate for now. There is time for that later.


Anonymous said...

Just beautiful - i look forward to reading more. Judie Bjorling

Jill said...

Happy to see you writing again. I love how you write about Easton-- here and on Fbook. Such sweetness.