Seasons are funny.
Some seasons come in gently. Easing their way in. Changing things gradually.
Other seasons waltz in and slap you square in the jaw. Leaving no mercy in their wake.
I prefer gradual. Because I'm not a big change kinda gal. I prefer to look around one day and say, "Whoa...something's different here, but I have no earthly idea what it is." That's much better than the alternative of waking up one day and your entire world has flipped itself. Yes...Gradual is much better. And easier on the nerves.
Fall has finally shown its face here in South Arkansas, and I'm loving the open-window, fleecy pajama kinda weather. I even slept with 3 quilts on my bed last night and didn't sweat one time....it was magical.
But this post isn't really about the newfound crispness in the air.
A new season has sneaked in and rearranged all the furniture in my mind. Facets of my life have been uprooted and tossed around like nothing I've ever seen before, and other pieces have remained untouched in this bizarre twist of seasonal irony. Some parts are better. Some are devastated. Some are still whirling around. And I'm stuck somewhere in the middle trying to make sense of it all.
Priorities are shifting. Conversations are being had that I never thought would have to be. Time spent on things that used to be so important are now fleeting thoughts. Interests have moved. Definitions of words like "quality" and "contentment" are rewriting themselves.
And I'm still reeling with the shift in equilibrium.
But I suppose that's what seasons are all about. Some seasons are for deadening, so that new growth can spring forth. Some seasons are for blooming and flowering and conquering the bleakness. Some seasons are for transition. And others are for preparation.
But whatever the season......
Seasons are funny.
Labels: Trying to Figure Myself Out