A Love Letter

Dear Fall,

I have missed you very, very much over the last four years. There is almost nothing as divine as New England in autumn and it hurt too much to remember how exciting and generous you can be while we were apart. I admit it -- I got distracted and developed a crush on the mild weather in Seattle -- it was painful to forget about you, autumn, but I had to put your gloriousness out of my mind during the drizzly months of late fall out there. I'll admit that I was swept off my feet with being able to comfortably head outdoors for nearly all the months of the year and forgot the allure of four distinct seasons. I even briefly fell head over heels for the dry, hot heat of Penticton. I've come back to you now, though. This thing we have is special and I realize now that there is nothing like New England fall -- the chilly mornings, mild afternoons, gorgeous sunshine, crisp air -- my heart lies with thee forever and ever. The allure of the season will hopefully keep the woeful depression of late winter and dirty snow from becoming overwhelming and your loveliness will be enough to carry us through the other months of the year. I suspect it will be just fine. I want to remember you just like this, especially in March when I've gotten used to seeing crocuses and daffodils pop up even though I know it'll be at least another month before I see them here. I need you to continue to be reliable and steadfast so that I don't get sucked back into thinking spring comes earlier than it actually does. I think you've turned on your charm quite nicely this year and I sincerely thank you for putting in your best efforts this year. I won't forget it.

Yours faithfully,
Melissa

P.S. Apparently, I'm not the only one happily enjoying the season.

The Wheels On The Bus

We have week #1 of Kindergarten tucked under our belts. And I use the "we" generously since it was a transition for all of us last week. The bus ride, the outside the building pick up and drop off, the "I have no idea what you did all day" -- those were opportunities for reorientation for me that apparently barely registered on the actual kindergartener. She says her days are great, she's making friends, she's ready to replace Charlie on the MTA and become Molly on the yellow school bus (except she actually doesn't want to get off versus not being able to get off). I have no idea what is actually happening at school since getting information out of the lock box isn't ever easy (why can I find out the play by play of a Wild Kratts episode but cannot hear who she sat next to at snack?) but I can easily tell that she's found her rhythm already and is off and running. Little brother is embarking on his school year next, and that familiar routine of school days is on the horizon, which is comfortable and comforting despite all the big changes we've achieved over the last several months. After a very fun summer, one where I wouldn't have changed a thing, I'm happy to slip back on the familiar threads of the school year. Though spring is traditionally the time of rebirth and regeneration, when your life is centered around school-aged children, the fall usurps that traditional cycle of mother nature. And while they are off and exploring and experiencing, I have a little more quiet in the house, which is both welcome and a reminder of the other things people are doing and that they are off on journeys elsewhere. I am thankful for the little break from the constant-ness of small people. I certainly miss overhearing the stories from the playroom and the conversations and snacks under the quilt forts (while decidedly not missing the bickering and tattling) but I take a great deal of comfort knowing that they will resume sometime after 3:00 and while I might not know what happened during the school day, I can rest assured that I'll know what every pirate, dancer, ice skater, baby, and other random assortment of characters is doing during the great toy takeout of the afternoon. The balance of new and old, of known and unknown is exciting and peaceful and helpful to tuck away in the back of my mind. It makes the inevitable bumbs along our roads easier to weather, aware that we strive towards homeostasis and balance.

And The Beat Goes On

Tomorrow is the day -- well, really it's Wednesday but tomorrow is orientation -- so we're going into school and meeting Molly's kindergarten teacher and learning whose face goes with which one of those twenty-two names on the class list and finding out where she hangs her bag and where I pick her up. I'm nostalgic and a little sad, of course, finding it hard to believe that my baby who was responsible for my change in careers is ready to embark on the school journey already (wasn't she just this big? and didn't she just learn to sit-up/crawl/walk yesterday? and where does the time go?) and (overnight, of course) turn into a big kid. She is beyond excited, having continued to pack and repack her backpack over and over. She had her clothes picked out weeks ago, is steadfastly maintaining that she is ready to get on the bus, and is full of energy about what tomorrow will bring. I know that isn't always how new experiences have always gone with her but she has really been looking forward to this day for a long, long time and has grown enormously in her ability to embrace change and have faith that the unknown is okay. Having that faith took me a long time so the fact that she leapfrogged over me on this one is making me feel a little like a dunce. I'm proud of her, nervous for her, nervous for me, a little freaked out about the loss of control (for me) but know that this is a natural and logical step for her and she is super ready to embark on this phase of her life. She'll actually be in school for less time this year than last year but this feels so much bigger and official-er and grown up than preschool. It's not the time she'll be away from me that is hard to get used to but the door that she's walking through and that the balance is yet again radically shifting in regards to sufficiency and agency. Thus, while my head and heart aren't totally in sync here, I know that harmony will come and with a few ups and downs for both of us, we'll soon be looking in the rear view mirror on this day of firsts.

The almost-kindergartener at our special Molly/Mom first day of school lunch date