For two weeks now, every evening I have driven home from work I have found myself waiting for this moment. The one that comes every September where the sun makes it's lovely autumn solstice tilt, and even though the temperatures point to summer, the orange, inviting glow indicates that the seasons are changing....finally.
It shines differently, softer - and there hasn't been a time, especially since we've lived in our home, that I haven't noticed that change.
The September sun and how it lights up our corner-lot house, was one of the things I was going to miss most when I was packing boxes and preparing to leave several months ago to move up north. And it was one of the things I rejoiced over when I realized we wouldn't be moving after all.
Since North Dakota and Jacob and a heap of disappointment that came with loss and the ending of a dream, it's felt as though our rhythm is off. Something isn't quite right. Something isn't working. There has been this spirit of unsettledness - in my heart, my body, my home, even my marriage and with my boys. It's as if something has been misplaced.
I've been waiting for it to balance out, but it's hasn't. Trying to juggle and control and manage and make things work. Always, always I find myself back in the same places. Terrified of letting go, of trusting and being vulnerable.
Maybe I'm a bit like a fall leaf in South Texas.
Waiting until nearly winter to change, to fall, to let go.