I always forget how much I love fall until it smacks me in the face.
Like last week when I sent the boys to school in shorts, walked outside around two o’clock in the afternoon and decided, why yes, I am a horrible mother.
It’s chilly out now.
Rumor has it that some hotter temperatures await us later this week, but we’ve already locked fall down with some soups and warm, baked meals. It feels like it’s almost time to hibernate, and that makes me feel so good. Gimme a hoodie, some blankets, and a long book to read. Yes, please.
Also, my skin decided to go straight from All The Oily Summer Skin to Straight Up Dryer Than The Desert in the span of four days. No in between. No transition. No warning. Just oil slick to drought. This was expected, of course, and despite the 35-year-old Hormonal Change, which I have yet to fully understand, embrace, and write about, my skin did stick to this seasonal routine. I maybe could have withstood a change in this abrupt about-face. But, alas, sometimes we don’t get the change we want, but we still get change.
With the drying out of grass, flowers, the air, and my face comes a drying out and letting go of other things in life. I’ve felt really overwhelmed lately, and I recognize that comes from not taking time to sit and process the changing of seasons and the changing of everything with the flip of a calendar page.
When I’m super overwhelmed, I tend to (meaning, it’s just going to happen) ignore my own laundry, thus leaving my side of the bedroom in some kind of tornadic laundry situation. I recognized the situation for what it was late last week, but couldn’t attend to the mess until this evening. Our bedroom is now clean and organized. I once again feel calm upon entering. I look forward to heading to bed with windows open, diffuser on, and everything in its place.
All this to say: I am here. I am breathing. I am enjoying the changing of seasons even if I’m kind of tired and my skin hurts my face. I welcome change. I am here.