It’s fall, although all that’s falling in North Carolina right now is rain. And more rain.
The fall, or maybe the rain, is making me a bit melancholy. Days are getting shorter. People are getting older (happy birthday, Aimee and Casey!). Holidays are getting closer, and my wallet is growing emptier.
I think of autumns past. New jeans, marching band practice, hometown parades. Being asked to “go to Homecoming” with the nerdiest boy in the class, feeling guilty for saying no, resenting him for asking in the first place. Visiting Lord Byron’s estate on a perfect English September day. Going back to work when Phoebe was three months old, mourning the end of the summer spent entirely with my girls. Dropping Mallory off at the carpool line for the very first time, watching her walk down the sidewalk in her plaid jumper and her oversized backpack. Saying goodbye to sweet Finn.
The other night I went in the backyard to add some scraps to the compost bin. The girls came out and started chasing each other around the yard, barefoot, hair flying out behind them, bare legs and arms just starting to lose their summer tans. The sun was already setting; when they reached the far end of the yard I could barely see them in the gathering dusk. I could hear them laughing, though, loud and clear, the sound of childhood, and sunshine, and sisters, and of all the good things that get you through the bad times.
The fall, or maybe the rain, is making me a bit melancholy. Days are getting shorter. People are getting older (happy birthday, Aimee and Casey!). Holidays are getting closer, and my wallet is growing emptier.
I think of autumns past. New jeans, marching band practice, hometown parades. Being asked to “go to Homecoming” with the nerdiest boy in the class, feeling guilty for saying no, resenting him for asking in the first place. Visiting Lord Byron’s estate on a perfect English September day. Going back to work when Phoebe was three months old, mourning the end of the summer spent entirely with my girls. Dropping Mallory off at the carpool line for the very first time, watching her walk down the sidewalk in her plaid jumper and her oversized backpack. Saying goodbye to sweet Finn.
The other night I went in the backyard to add some scraps to the compost bin. The girls came out and started chasing each other around the yard, barefoot, hair flying out behind them, bare legs and arms just starting to lose their summer tans. The sun was already setting; when they reached the far end of the yard I could barely see them in the gathering dusk. I could hear them laughing, though, loud and clear, the sound of childhood, and sunshine, and sisters, and of all the good things that get you through the bad times.
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You wanna go to Homecoming with me?
And that was a melancholy post. But with a sweet ending.