Seasons Change

The Japanese maples and municipal trees that line our neighborhood streets are changing colors. All seasons are a time of change, but fall seems especially so. Sometimes a wistful feeling blows with the wind. Dry leaves scatter, orb spiders set up their morbid webs, and summer is ushered out in increasingly vivid sunsets.

Change is on my mind lately—today was the first day I did not go to my son’s school to nurse him. Our first big goodbye was when I returned to work. That was preceded by minor goodbyes—our first date away from him, my first quick coffee or lunch with a friend; it will be followed by other goodbyes and firsts—first sleep over, first weekend away. All of these farewell milestones build up to bigger ones—traveling without us, moving out, going to college.

Instead of feeling wistful, though, I am trying to think of how exciting it is that he is becoming less dependent on me as we wean. Because we have a good foundation of complicity and secure attachment, he can trust that our goodbyes are not permanent, and I can trust that in the future when he moves on into adulthood, his goodbyes will not be permanent. Change cannot be stopped, but it is reassuring that we can rely on spring cycling back to us.

In the meantime, I celebrate having a free lunch hour. What to do with my time? Eat lunch with friends, read a book by myself in the sun, squeeze in some shopping, and ease back into a routine that is more balanced.