Autumnal Anecdotes

November is here in full force, reminding me of last fall and all that came with it. Last fall: Michigan, and family, and then tough times. Life lately has been a strange mix of painful moments, as the memories come; and beautiful ones, as the cool weather encourages more sweaters, more fall candles, more long walks in the park. In the same breath I wish I could turn back the clock: If only I could jump back to fall of two years ago, 2021; or that of fall 2019, before everything happened, the world shut down and life changed forever.

I know what he would say to me; I know that he would be proud. And I know that, just as the leaves fall from the trees, seasons come and seasons go, and there is a time for everything under the sun. Our lesson in church this past weekend was from Ecclesiastes 1:2 ("Everything is meaningless"), but how, of course, nothing is meaningless with Jesus. Faith can be challenging in grief; at times it has felt like even with Jesus, everything is still meaningless, but I know that's not true. 

It's cathartic to come to this space and write again. It's nice to have a little cozy corner of the internet that seldom few know about, and just tuck in and type some thoughts out. I think writing as a whole is something that I am longing to return to. 

For many writers, NaNoWriMo is a time to write a novel throughout the month, and although I won't be participating in that challenge, the call to come back to writing is deeply felt. Life sometimes feels more and more distracting the older I get - and with so many things constantly calling for my attention, sometimes it feels as if I've put off that childlike, creative side of myself that just wants to pull on a cozy sweater and write.

I always find that fall pulls out the best side of me, and in little, quiet moments by myself lately, I have felt an inkling of my old, creative self returning. She's quiet, but she's there. I know he would say, "Write. Run. Take care of yourself," but in his own voice, which I miss. And so I am trying to get back to myself, one moment at a time.

It leads just like a river runs,