I Am Almost Autumn

Upon birthdays and growing older

My birthday is quickly approaching and I am reaching the end of my reign as fifty years old. I like my birthday and tend to get a bit excited about it. As far as I am concerned, it is Zara fest time and I am ready to be feted by my friends and family (and I will be).

Tomorrow is lunch at my favorite little tea room, then a family dinner a few days later, a romantic evening with the boyfriend, and another then luncheon with one of my best friends.

Being alive and loved is to be celebrated.

This morning as I was scrubbing the bathtub, I was thinking about Autumn (as one does). I thought about the seasons and the stages of life.

If Winter is dying and death then surely Autumn is middle age and I am most assuredly middle age. But it didn’t quite sit right with me. I am definitely way past spring. No doubts about that. What about Summer?

I think about the nature walks I took towards the end of Summer. I recall the overgrowth and overabundance of the lush greenery. The foliage is almost too much.

My children are all born and growing. Two are adults, one is teetering on adulthood, and the last is not too far behind. My life is full. My life is lush. I rush here and rush there. I do this, that, and the other thing. I will spent my birthday nestled in the lushness of my life and familial love.

It is still summer for me.

But I know it won’t always be this way.

I still have all four of my children in my nest but I know they have their plans on leaving. I am not pushing them out but I won’t hold them back either.

The craziness of young children has passed. I remember the long days of sitting at the playground, watching them romp, and thinking to myself: “This is it. These are the best days of my life. These are the most fruitful and full.”

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