Becca Rowan is a writer and the author of Life in General, a collection of essays about mid-life as experienced by an American woman in the 21st century. Becca loves creating connections by sharing stories on her popular blog.
“The trees are about to show us how beautiful it is to let things go.” ~Unknown
The trees in our neighborhood are just beginning to show their fall colors and will soon release all this bright beauty to the earth below. Autumn IS all about letting things go, isn’t it? And the older I get, the more things I’ve learned to release.
Four weeks ago today we began our personal “shelter in place,” with the state mandates following suit within a few days.
This is the week I’m calling the “A” week. Acquiescence. Acceptance. Assimilation.
I realize just how deeply physical distancing has become ingrained in my psyche when I mentally scold actors in TV programs for gathering in groups. Or when the characters in the novels I’m reading take trips, go shopping, or meet for dinner, I pause, puzzled.
It’s been quite a week, hasn’t it?
I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you what I’m talking about. The world as we know it has changed drastically this week. It’s on all our minds and hearts.
I confess, until this week I was not overly concerned about Covid-19. Yes, I was paying closer attention to hand washing, I had stocked up on extra provisions (including toilet paper thank goodness!) Most of my concern was for my husband, who is at increased risk due to underlying health conditions. So I was focused on keeping myself healthy most especially for his benefit. But generally I was going about business as usual.
This morning is…starting early, my eyes wide open at 3:00 a.m. There are no children here rousing me from my slumber, no eager anticipation for what Santa might have left under the tree. Perhaps it’s hormones (or lack thereof), but so many days of each week begin this way. Early waking, followed by a burst of energy fueled with caffeine, and then my motivation begins to slowly and steadily leak away like the air from a balloon, until I finally fizzle completely and come to a heap on the couch right after dinner.
This morning is…a large mug of coffee (decaf because maybe I could go back to sleep for a couple of hours) brewed in a bright yellow cup with the words “Morning, Sunshine,” emblazoned upon it.
It seems like every year at this time I find myself writing about the same thing - the feeling that Fall is the true New Year, the time to Begin Again.
Ironic, isn’t it? For us in the northern hemisphere, Fall brings the END of summer, and the end of the natural growth cycle. Already my once glorious flowers have begun to wither and I spy a few leaves tinged with crimson and gold. But for all that autumn brings The End of some things, it brings the beginning of school, a time I’ve always associated with the excitement of fresh starts.
This year is no different. If anything, I feel an increased anticipation to “get back to work,” as it were. Retirement is all well and good, but I’ve lately felt a call for productivity and purpose. A call to accomplish things that are important to me.
