I really am working on a post (or two, or three) of our trip last week to New Mexico and Arizona. It was incredible and I have amazing pictures to share. But being true to my metaphorical nature, I have something to say about so much of it and I need more time to get the right words connected to my thoughts.
Till then…I just got back from a 16 mile run and right now the trees here on the farm are incredible. It honestly makes 16 miles entertaining, if you can believe that. As I came upon this tree my mind started doing it’s thing, going a mile a minute- that would be my mind, not my legs, just for the record! As I stopped to take in the beauty of it all, I got thinking about seasons, and my left hip flexor actually. And all at the same time. I digress. Anyhow, I love this time of year; the change of colors, the anticipation, the fresh sounds, the switch from one thing to another, the transition. Fall will never get old to me and after living in parts of the country that don’t have this season, I do not take this for granted. It makes me thankful to be a runner!
What strikes me about this tree specifically is the perfect depiction of the past and the future all together as one. It’s in transition; partly summer, partly winter. It’s moving from one stage to another, some leaves more quickly than others. It has a foot still in yesterday and a hand in tomorrow.
So do I.
It wasn’t long ago my oldest son and I took our first breath together, he learned to ride a bike, and dreamed of playing football. We talked about Rescue Hero’s (remember those guys with biceps that were bigger than its head?), Elmo, and the fact that cowboy boots, shorts and a halter top were not a good choice for the fashion conscious (in December). Now we are walking together across a football field (he in full pads, me beside him) at his last middle school football game, researching airsoft guns, and spending hours and hours and hours at basketball practices. Elmocize has now been replaced with conversations about wise character choices, consequences of “guilty by association”, and um….g.i.r.l.s. (helpmeJesus!!).
There’s still an innocence of yesterday but the desire for freedom for tomorrow.
It’s a transition. A season of partly child, partly teen. And some parts are changing more quickly than others; therefore, as I stood staring at this tree, I thought “me too!”. The tree, and I, are still trying to hide and protect the young innocence close to our trunk, and yet keenly aware of the process of maturing happening around the edges.
It’s bitter sweet. Season’s always are. I still adore the Dakota of yesterday. I’m incredibly proud of the Dakota of today. I know I will be amazed at the Dakota of tomorrow.
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