Changing Seasons

The older I get the less I like changing seasons. To some this sounds like emotional heresy, but that’s my reality. I prefer life to resemble a perpetual spring – the latter part of spring when the rains wind down and things begin to dry out.

Spring means new life and new beginnings. Spring is a time of unfolding – a season of blossoms and fresh scent. Summer brings with it the sagging days of warmth that hold on to the life spring first birthed. Summer is a gallery that hangs fruit-art for us to admire and taste. Summer is my second favorite season.

The longer summer goes on the more a lingering feeling tries to rise up in me and say, “This will be over sooner than you think.” As a boy, the most dreaded thing I remember seeing in print were the words, “Back to School Sale.” At age 64 those words still set my emotions on edge. I realize my response is so male and disconnected from the reality experienced by the other half of the human race. Late summer is the time of year when summer-frazzled-kid-overloaded moms begin to smile and think of coffee dates with girlfriends drinking espresso together in the coolness of a fall morning while the kids are safely – and finally - back to school for another year.

Fall has become the most challenging season for me. Fall used to mean other things, but it is different now that I am getting older. At my age there is a future date with my physical death that resembles a coming winter. I am living in the fall season of my life and my winter season is an approaching reality. Fall has become to me the preparatory season for winter’s death. The bright colors of dying fall leaves are a disguised reminder of something trying to perpetuate the illusion of sustained life.

Now, when I am caught in the grips of a real winter’s knuckle, my mind begins to vault forward in anticipation to late February with its first hint of a coming spring blossom. This is actually a healthy place for older people like me. Wishing, thinking and focusing on a coming spring season of life that may or may not be there to welcome us depending on how many seasons we have left. This isn’t as dark as it sounds because I always have spring on my mind. Aren’t you glad I turned this all around and ended on a positive note?