Summer Days of Fall

Years ago before our family disintegrated, every time we experienced warm, sunny autumn days, my ex-husband would exclaim, “We won’t have many days like this left.”

Photo by YAO KAILUN on Pexels.com

Our family comprehended the sense of urgency in his statement and tried to capture the favorable weather by partaking in as much outdoor activity as we could squeeze into the burning daylight hours. How easily I can still picture my son and daughter’s grins from ear to ear, with my daughter’s long strawberry blonde hair flying like dandelion stalks as the two siblings rode their bicycles aimlessly on every empty stretch of the neighborhood.

I hadn’t remembered my ex-husband’s long-ago statement until this season, this year. Now, suddenly, with a record number of unseasonably warm days, his voice fills my mind and has become a permanent deposit in my memory bank.

Though loud and unsubtle, the ping of its urgency is now gone. I shake my head in unbelief, never before to have recognized the ominous connotations of his statement. In fact, I would have never in a billion years taken his remark literally. However, now I realize that he was saying something that implied a much deeper, in essence darker meaning–a direct warning, if you will.

This fall marks 10 years of his emotional and mental breakdown and, subsequently, his total abandonment of our family. Additionally, this November marks 12 months that I am saddened with a womb of grief to know my son will not experience the flirty breezes and warm dancing sunlight of the season. My son, who, among other things, suffered from seasonal affective disorder (SAD), has missed these mild days, the type that rarely failed to enhance his sulky moods. Soon these pleasant days will by erased by the forceful hand of winter.

Photo by Raphael Brasileiro on Pexels.com

“We won’t have many days like this left.”

Seasons aside, in the scheme of life, I realize something else. Regardless of the weather, the truth in my ex-husband’s statement can be applied to every passing day. Each day, if I work hard at it, I can draw on my faith and use my stream of consciousness to aim a bittersweet dart at the rationed hours stored in my private reserve.

Most importantly, I can hold off on the urgent things and go outdoors to experience a momentary pause and allow the golden ball of warmth to sponge up the dripping wounds and bathe me clean.

Faith Muscle

5 thoughts on “Summer Days of Fall

  1. love it ! Love too ‘the deposit in memory’s bank’; I remember the ironic lines from Buddy Holly’s ‘Everyday’: “everyday it’s a getting closer, going faster than a roller coaster’ written only months before his death 😦

    • Hi John! Thanks so much! It means so much to know someone actually reads my posts! That’s so interesting about Buddy Holly. I had no clue. I can say, it sure has been a heck of a rollercoaster ride for sure! Again, thanks.

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