I can smell it in the air. And taste it in my cravings. Pumpkin spice everything is preferred. Apples over raspberries. Pie over ice cream.
This time of the year entices me to bake barefoot and pad through the house in an apron and pincurls. As the sun slows itself, as leads begin to drop, and days become shorter, it’s as though I’m being called to slow down, too. I pull the covers a little tighter around me, closing out the delicious morning chill. I press snooze one more time than I oughtta. I wave goodbye to my babies as they bike away to school, and prop myself at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. I sit and sip and watch yellow leaves shimmer just outside the window.
I remember about renewal. Remind myself that even trees who have been around longer than my own strong body need to rest. They embrace the season and settle in to sleep.
Sometimes I forget that. To be gentle with myself. I run and chase and fire on all cylinders because it feels good to be productive. It’s so satisfying to sit i the sunshine of things accomplished. Yet somewhere in the middle of daily checklists and assignments turned in, I forget to connect with the simple things. Forget to drop my limbs and hold fleeting moments as if they are the fragile birds they are.
And so, autumn comes. And reminds. With whispers on the wind. Slow down, savor, suck in the morning for a season. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s so good.
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