Seasons

There is so much talk about seasons, seasoning, seasoned. Whether it is people, or food, or weather, my favorite is always Fall, Autumn, bright, colorful, fresh and crisp.

I am in the Autumn of my life now and trying desperately to find those things in me.

I see the dewy newness of Spring in my sister's great grandchildren and even my friends under thirty. In Springtime things are soft and pliable, filled with hope, open to almost everything.

I see the mature sturdiness of my children in the summer of their lives as they build families and homes, preparing for their or their children's futures. Summer is the time for growth, for fertilizing and nurturing. A time for strength and perseverance.

I am in the Autumn of my life and it is the time to savor the fruits of the last two seasons. Savor the contrasts between passion and stony cold, store up a reserve for the winter to come, but do it knowing this is the last big hurrah, the last season when nearly everything is still possible.

Winter is coming and I want it to be the serenity of white hair and volumes of memories, all filed neatly in easily accessible places. Winter is the time to gently fade into the atmosphere, become one with the world as it really is and eventually disappear into that reality so that I will be a whisper in the wind, a drop of warmth in the light, the soft touch of raindrops falling on the faces of those I love.