Leaves and needles are falling from the trees, and sweaters are starting to appear. Right now at this very minute a storm is sweeping around and around our area like a curious cloud dipping down from Canada to sniff the air before returning upward and continuing on its whirlwind ways. The rain is methodically beating on the roof and on the deck and on the windows and on the cement sidewalk but mostly on my brain, reminding me that the time has passed for all those repairs that were supposed to be done before this season came along; another summer has come and gone with very little in the way of anything to show for it.
This past week has had its ups and downs both in the weather and in the general outlook of things, physically and emotionally and spiritually and every other which way there can be. Some kind of virus took hold of my system and hammered it pretty hard, reducing me to just a bundle of raw nerves, but nothing that hadn't been felt before nor beaten back with a bottle of this or that - mostly Excedrin and NyQuil. Took a day or so off work to recuperate, or at least to just sleep it off, and felt if not quite up to snuff, at least able to walk a few feet down the hallway without feeling like another nap.
The children are up to the Acceptance step in the Grief Cycle, accepting that school is here to stay for awhile and they might as well get used to it and buckle down and do their homework; not to say the struggle against their God-given (and father-accelerated) right to procrastinate is any easier this year than last. There are still constant reminders from the Parental Units to spend the requisite time on these things, with the threats of reduced allotments for entertainment hanging over their heads. The sullen attitudes we could do without; but what teenager would accept discipline without a fight? We take it in stride, and keep striding. Our goal is in sight: we can see in the near future that our nest will be empty, and there is hope that the young will have taken flight with a firm grasp on their skills and responsibilities, ready to take their place among the citizens of the world in solving all the problems brought about by their forebears.
James successfully navigated the path to First Class Scout this past weekend - more on that later - and Adam is still doggedly perfecting his driving skills; Deb is eager to add flute-playing to her musical skills this year, with several seasons of piano under her belt; and Mary is enjoying her independence as the sole family participant in the daily trek to the Elementary School yard.
Fall is here; the seasons are changing, the weather is changing, the family is changing, and the years keep adding on to one another. Time does have a way of accelerating as one's perspective changes. It will not be too much longer before we, like my own mother and father, will, God willing, gather our family together to celebrate fifty years of wedded bliss.
I cannot think of anyone with whom I'd rather share the time than my own Cheryl.
It's the getting up early in the morning that really surprises me. This is the kid who wouldn't get out of bed for anything, all summer long, even when threatened with the loss of breakfast. It seemed as though his appetite for sleep knew no bounds; yet here he is on the first day of school, up at the crack of dawn and ready to Go.
This is the kid that refuses to get up until mere moments before it's time to head out the door. I think he sleeps in his clothes. He also gets by on a glass of chocolate milk for breakfast and no lunch. Naturally, he's starving by the time he gets home, so he empties the pantry and everything that just happens to by lying about inside the refrigerator. Leftovers tremble at his approach.
It's her first year in Middle School, and we have to pinch ourselves sometimes to make sure it's real. How could our little girl have gotten so big? But she has, and she stands with her big brother, ready to go out the door and onto the big school to tackle the big subjects and start the long and winding road to high school and onwards.
She's not the baby anymore, gotten much too tall for that title. She's getting taller by the minute, too, and will probably soon leave her old parents in the dust. But for now, she's content to allow her mother to walk her to school on the first day back. One of these days, we'll be watching her walk at graduation, and then we'll feel really old.
A week or two ago, Adam obtained his Level 1 Driver's License, which enables him to drive in the company of a parent or guardian (meaning Mom or Dad), so he can practice interacting with real traffic while one of his parents sits in the passenger seat, unable to do anything but yell instructions, jam his/her foot on the imaginary brake, and cover his/her eyes with his/her hands.
Cheryl took the kids over to a friend's house to get some pears from the orchard. They came home with several boxes full of 'em.
