Window seat. (Day Five)

I’m sitting by myself in the library, my small table isolated from all humans but surrounded by books. I’m on the top floor, right alongside a large window wall overlooking the lake and all the fall colors from neighboring trees. It’s so quiet that I swear I can hear the leaves rustling in the slightest breeze on the other side of this glass. I don’t remember the last time things have been this quiet. I mean, even on my solo walks – there’s leaves crunching under my feet, cars driving by, birds heckling me from trees, dogs barking in backyards. Or even alone in my shed, I can either audibly hear my dogs or I’m always aware of my dogs, the garbage truck coming up the block, people speeding their loud ass cars on the main road nearby. But up here on the 2nd floor of the library, in the corner window seat, the only sound is when I move my fingers around the keyboard. I can’t even lie, it’s somewhat eerie. I’m trying to breathe deep and relish in the silence, but I’m also anticipating somebody walking around me as they peruse a nearby aisle of books.

So I look out the window. The autumn colors over the last week or so have truly been other-worldly here in Michigan. I don’t know that I recall the oranges, reds, and yellows being as vibrant as they are this year. But maybe I say that every year. Maybe you don’t appreciate things until they are obviously right in front of you, and then when they’re not, you forget how captivating it was until the next year. And then the feeling comes flooding back to you like it’s the first time. Such is life, eh?

It’s wild because even on a grey and cloudy day, the fall colors still glow. Change is coming, rain or shine. The sun feels warmer and makes us happier, but winter is still inevitable – even on the brighter days. I very much feel like my heart and my life is in this autumn season. It’s beautiful and bittersweet, teaching us that things must die first in order to bloom again. It’s like anticipatory grief: Do I choose to appreciate and enjoy the colors while they’re here ….. or do I overlook until it’s too late and they become a chore to rake up off the ground…?

And with that, I think I’m gonna go for a walk now.