Autumn is that guy.
Autumn slows down and speeds up at the same time. It rests its tired limbs and reflects:
“This isn’t where I thought I’d be at this late(ish) date. It’s not how I thought my story would play out. Weren’t we supposed to change the world by now? I better get busy and put on a display before I take a nap.”
All that idealism of youth – it’s not gone but revealed in a single blazing, quickly fading maple.
Midlife stops us in our tracks, asks us to drag our aching bones up on its massive sloping shoulders and look around. Look at the inevitable path created through changing seasons. See where others followed and some branched out on their own.
Look at the leaves you shook down as you walked past a slowly dying ash tree. See how you/we/they changed the world after all – and how the world changed us.
Look at what might be, so much rolling out ahead, so many curves in the path, so many offshoots and possibilities.
Before you put away the wheelbarrows for winter, stop for a moment. Wonder.
Then get busy and put on a display.
Autumn is like that.