Turn, turn, turn

Even though it was 80 degrees when I went outside last week, it smelled like fall. I think it was the leaves, but it just wasn’t summer anymore. I think I’ll miss it this time around. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t; but this one was nice (mild, even). I’m sad to see it go. And as the leaves start changing, I’ll no longer be able to see the contrast of the green leaves against the blue sky. You know how it is when something strikes you that never did before? For example, one spring I really noticed the buds and new leaves on the trees. I mean I REALLY noticed them. I couldn’t stop looking at them and thinking that they were just more remarkable than usual. That’s how it was all summer long with the trees and sky. I frequently thought to myself, “Wow. That is a really good color combination.” Strangely, it sometimes calmed me when I was stressed, or allowed me to notice the beauty in the moment when I felt completely bored.

Of course, this summer was also memorable in other ways—it wasn’t just the green and blue. Renée was born. Joseph turned into a true toddler. Our lives became just a little more chaotic. I know that it will never be like this again. Next summer will be different. Joseph will probably not be as excited about pushing around his lawnmower. And although he may still enjoy planting flowers, he won’t call the mums in the back yard “mum-mums,” and he might also give up the phrase “garden patch.” And even though it will be exciting to watch Renée grow and change, I couldn’t help but get a little teary when I put away her first batch of clothing that became too small. As fall officially begins, Renée will no longer be a newborn; she’ll be a regular baby. I think next time around I won’t be as amazed by the trees against the sky.

Maybe some changes won’t be so sad. Although the kids will have changed, there will be new things to take in. Renée may end up pushing around the lawnmower. And maybe I’ll be able to handle evenings without Tony a little more skillfully. Or perhaps sometimes I’ll be able to have more dinners where Renée is not screaming to be held while Joseph is yelling for attention while smearing avocado in his hair that he refuses to let us wash. But if not, it’s okay, because I know it will never be like this again.