268/365 Autumn Days

These autumn days are warning us
Of winter sure to be,
When all the leaves have fallen off
From every branch and tree.

These earthly friends are leaving us
Their autumns being past,
And thus the winters of our lives
Will come to us at last.
--Shaker poem

It is this time of year that brings me face to face with aging. In the mirror every morning, in the red bud tree in the backyard turning unceremoniously brown. The hard green tomatoes left on the vine, never to ripen, might as well pick them and make salsa verde. Again. The air is unforgivingly dry and Maeve's eczema returns with her asthmatic cough.

I am, most likely, God willing and the creek don't rise, far from the winter of my life. But it struck me that Sophia is 9, and if she is a typical child, we're half-done with having her live in our house full time. This created a sort of panic in me akin to having a baby reach up and touch a hot burner. Hurry, fast, before it's all over.

All over. It's all over in a hurry, yes. I need to be sure to hurry up and take things slow.