Right here, right now

I'm always a bit sad to feel fall coming. Saying goodbye to summer when you live in Chicago means that very soon you will be saying hello to winter and sometimes frigid temperatures and the inevitable snow and radiator heat that means it is either blanket-wrapped cold or sweaty hot in our little apartment, never a happy medium.

This week, we've run into several parents in the neighborhood and at co-op who've made comments on the changing weather, on getting out as much as possible before it is really cold, on dreading winter with kids and moms cooped up inside for too many hours of the day. And as much as I have a pang of dread myself, I am not ready to give in. Before I do that, I need to sink into fall.

I need to wear a jacket and flip-flops. I need to pack
sunglasses and a scarf in my hat. I need to put on a sweater, take off
the sweater and put back on the sweater, all within five minutes of
being outside my front door. I need a chilly breeze. I need crunchy
leaves all over the grass and sidewalk and flaming oak leaves spreading
scarlet red across apple green barely hanging on from the summer.



I need to celebrate my anniversary
with my husband and then put together a costume for my boy. I need to
see the parade of preschoolers waddling down the block, overcome by
tulle skirts and sewn-in muscles and fake fur and the blur of
imagination and reality. I need the anxiousness and anticipation when
the countdown to Christmas begins ridiculously early.



I need to fall into a happy rhythm with enough upbeats to laugh hard
more often and plenty of pauses where more peace can seep in and fill
me up.



I need the space. Slowly, steadily, I am claiming it. With each day out from making changes, I feel a bit freer, a bit more present. And with each change I make,
it feels easier to make another or consider what else I can do to be
here now, not living on a to-do list or sometime in the future.



I need the fall to ease my own transitions. So I can gain strength to
move all that snow out of the way when I need to get us to playgroup.
So I can take the time and pleasure to wrap beautiful gifts to place
carefully under the tree rather than stressing over what to get and
when to fit all this business of giving in. So I can sing the carols
loudly without rushing and choose our travel plans wisely. So I can
actually enjoy a little of the hibernating once it is less of a choice.



Today, I held Lil E's hand as we walked the three blocks to the park
from home. I stopped to look at the jagged-edged gingko leaves that
turned a rich goldenrod color last week and now litter our front yard.
We sang together, I've Been Working On the Railroad and Skip to My Lou and Boom Boom Ain't It Great to Be Crazy,
happy and loud and taking turns singing lines. I wasn't worried about
work or thinking about tomorrow. I was right there with Lil E, and it
was good and right. Everything felt in place and there was no time or
place I'd have rather been.