Maybe it’s the time of year, or maybe it’s all in my head, but I’m feeling an uncomfortable disconnect from life as it’s always been. Seasonal changes stir up a mild dose of this every year, especially it seems, between summer and fall. Summer is so brazenly out there. It’s the throw yourself outdoors and roll in it every chance you get, season. Summer is full of traditions like back yard barbeques and trips to the lake and being whipped around on a tube behind a wave-runner going thirty miles an hour. It’s a tough season to follow.
Then fall arrives and those tucked away, wonderful warm sweaters start looking good and the closet sends all the flip-flops packing to make room for loafers and leather boots. Gather up all those soft flimsy cottons and stash them away. That’s right – let em’ go. Disconnect. There are blue jeans and fleece jackets to cling to now.Wool socks and driving gloves and knitted caps.
Yet the disconnect I’m noticing isn’t just the ever changing seasons, the letting go of one year for another. It’s more personal; like letting go of life as it’s been for life as it soon may be, as it’s apparently evolving to. It could be the aging thing. No one I know is getting any younger. It could be geography – the distance between loved ones that seems to lengthen behind our backs, while we’re not paying attention. Or maybe it’s differences in each other we are no longer, after all these years, willing to put up with, keep quiet about, make excuses for. Who knows?
So, as unsettling as it may be, and even though a part of me is squeamish about it, there is definitely a part of me that looks forward to the mysteries that lie ahead, even if they do resemble the proverbial bogyman lurking around the corner. One thing certain is the future is coming with a whole new set of opportunities to handle life better than I ever have; to make the thoughtful choice, the one that comes with years of experience – or is supposed to anyway.
I hope I’m able to muster up a bit of grace for this mysterious future. Some courage and dignity. It’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just this odd bit of disconnect.
Later,
Mary Ann
