(Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.)
I used to love autumn when I was younger.
Fall meant a new school year brimming with promise, where I might learn something completely new. Where I might read a new book which would whisk me away into new experiences. Where I could dream about what I might be when I grow up. In college, it signaled a return to my happiness, marching band and football games and all my friends – my new family – were all together.
In the past few years, though, it’s completely changed for me. Fall brings a sense of dread. It’s the season of cold hands and feet. It signifies the end of racing season… and light in the early mornings. It’s a harbinger of what’s to come – the dark and cold of winter. It’s also a season of loss – my aunt, my college band director, and my last two pregnancies. It’s a reminder that Owen is growing up probably a hell of a lot more quickly than I am prepared to handle. Physically, for me? It means MONTHS of being cold, and numb fingers.
But whether I like it or not, or am willing to accept it, the fact is: seasons always change.
I left my sunroof open a few days ago, when I parked at the pond for my swim. It was a short swim – only a half hour – but it was gorgeous and amazing and totally changed my mood.
And when I got back, there was this little present waiting for me, right on the driver’s seat.
In that moment, I had a thought. Is there nothing I LIKE about the fall?
Football season. Crockpot recipes. Curries and soups and fleece leggings. Wool socks and hot showers. Clear, crisp air. Apple picking. Pumpkin pie. Quiet cool sleeping weather. No humidity. Hot coffee and oatmeal before a run. Impossibly bright sunny days with a sky so blue it hurts your heart. Fires and no bugs and hiking and snuggles under blankets.
I know winter is hard, and I hate being cold.
But maybe it’s time I changed my perspective on it.