First Signs of Fall

I went outside on my back porch this morning with my cup of coffee in hand and recognized, for the first time, that distinct shift in the air that ushers in the coming of fall. As an experiment, I walked around to the front of my house to look up into the crown of our Maple tree where confirmation lie, the uppermost patch of the tree had in fact begun to turn deep shades of red and bright orange. I guess this means summer is almost over.

I'm not sure whether to feel grief for summers passing or elation at the coming of autumn. Fall is, by far, my favorite season, but for eight months of the year, I pine for summer, for lush green, sweaty heat, and brats on the grill. I guess I'll do both, grieve and celebrate. Which come to think of it is how I am spending most of my days lately.

For those who perhaps don't know, I'm expecting my first baby at the end of November. With this expectation comes a flood of emotions. I am always, all at once, excited to start this new phase of life and simultaneously terrified. I'm not really worried about being a good mom, I have enough mentors to keep me in line and to teach me along the way. But I'm afraid of the changes, both to my body, and to my everyday life. Knowing these changes will include the obvious positives that come with having a baby coupled with the awareness that for 34 years my life has really been able to be mostly about me.

This fall will be a deep time, a full time, a harrowing time. As the trees start turning I hope to pay attention to the turning inside me and to trust that everything always changes and that I'm going to be able to figure it out as I go.

So I grieve and celebrate...so many things...all at once.