I admit it. I have wished away the sunshine, afternoons at the lake, iced tea, and tank tops. After a uniquely prolonged summer, with temperatures up to 90 degrees until just two days ago, I have dreamed of fall. The autumn colors were here, but with air so hot and thick with humidity, I couldn’t see them properly. They were a backdrop to a show that started late – so late that the audience had begun to shift in uncomfortable, worn seats, looking and listening intently for clues that might explain the unexpected delay.
This morning the air is chilly, less than 50 degrees, and there is no trace of humidity. Gone too is the brilliant sun, hidden behind steel grey clouds. I am reminded of the long, cold winter ahead, of those short grim days when it’s so cold we try to stay indoors if possible, days when that steely sky has left us feeling claustrophobic, wanting to be anywhere else as long as the sun is shining there.
I try to live in the moment, not wish away my children’s youth or the warm sun on my shoulders. But like the funny, adorable two-year-old you think you can’t bear to see morphing into an older child, eventually even the warm sunny days of summer grow tiresome; change is a blessing.