Seasons

Seasons. Different weather, different activities, just plain different. I feel as if I have been going through a new and very different season in my life lately.

I am learning that it is okay to not have words to say or explanations to give. Silence is okay, and it also allows you to listen to the narratives and stories of others.

I am learning to not put my hope in my own expectations. As my wise father often quips, every expectation we have, especially the unspoken ones, set us up for a future regret. For me, this is true. I have come to embrace my inner artist- the dreamy, child-like romantic in me who still prefers to see the world as a beautiful snow globe instead of an actual world, or more like a movie than the real world. I have seen how idyllic the glasses are through which I prefer to see the world and my life- and also the discrepancies between those glasses and my actual life. Ouch. That's like telling a child the truth about Santa- or about fairy tales- and though I do not consider myself a child anymore, the fall from my imaginary castle back to earth merited its own bumps, bruises, and scratches. And I thought I was a realist....

This season is so different for me- sometimes I find it hard to give myself some grace, some wiggle room, to allow for growth, for change, which is inevitable. I am changing, my sphere is changing, and that's okay. After all, it's just another season.