This morning when I took the dogs for their walk, something wonderful happened. I didn’t immediately regret going outside.
It wasn’t ungodly hot, and it wasn’t like walking—or swimming—through soup. It was cool, comfortable, and refreshing.
“Ahhh. Fall is coming.”
Today is the first day of school for a lot of kids. That doesn’t really have anything to do with my life anymore, but it still feels like a marker on the calendar.
I loved having my kids home during the summer, but by late August, I was usually ready for everyone to get back into a routine. For years, our lives revolved around the school calendar: school, sports, activities, homework, and weekends when somebody always needed to be somewhere. Even my work schedule followed the same calendar.
Now I’m an empty nester, and the first day of school mostly means enjoying first-day-of-school pictures in my social media feed. It’s strange how something that once organized your entire life can eventually become just another Monday.
Although this particular Monday isn’t just another Monday at our house. My youngest turns 30 today. Thirty. 
Both of my kids are officially in their thirties. It doesn’t seem possible, but unfortunately, the math checks out.
My daughter’s birthday has always fallen right around the beginning of the school year, so for years birthday parties were mixed in with the back-to-school chaos. Now we go out for dinner, and my kids usually request a favorite treat.
For her 30th, my daughter requested apple crisp or white cake with buttercream and raspberry sauce. I decided to make both because starting a new decade requires two desserts.
I’ve been thinking about how much of life happens in seasons and how it’s possible to love one while still being perfectly happy when it ends.
I loved raising my kids, but I also looked forward to the day when they could dress themselves, make their own breakfast, and eventually drive themselves somewhere. I loved the basketball games and school activities, but I wasn’t exactly devastated when I stopped sitting in a gym three nights a week.
The same goes for puppies. Our three youngest dogs are about a year and a half old now, so we’re finally coming out of the puppy stage. We survived housebreaking, months of our living room floor being wallpapered with puppy pads, and the stage when leaving three puppies home alone meant risking another section of woodwork being turned into a beaver dam.
We still haven’t fixed it because we’re waiting to make sure they’ve officially retired from the beaver business. I loved the cuteness, but I’m very glad the destruction is passing.
Maybe that’s what seasons give us: ebbs and flows. Times when life demands nearly everything we’ve got, followed by times when things slow down enough to let us breathe.
This summer has been one of the busy ones. My workload has been heavy, Phil’s work schedule has been relentless, and my vegetable garden has kept me plenty busy. At this point, I’m kind of glad it’s all starting to wither.
In some ways, though, the busyness has been good for me.
This has been my first summer without my dad. Sometimes in grief, having somewhere to go, something to do, and people who need you gives your mind a place to rest from the things you can’t change.
But eventually, you get tired. I’m ready for a slower season.
I’m looking forward to cool mornings with the dogs and lunchtime walks where I don’t need a shower when I get back. I’m ready for lovely evenings, fires and hoodies, and that blast of fall color across the bluffs that are part of my daily view. 
I’m looking forward to hunting season too. My dad was a hunter, my son is a hunter, and Phil hunts when he has time. I’ve always enjoyed the stories that come home after a hunt. This year, I know I’ll miss hearing my dad’s. 
I’m ready for the garden to wind down, for Phil’s work to slow down, and for both of us to have a little more room to breathe.
I hate to say it, but I even look forward to winter for about three or four weeks. Then I’m longingly looking out the window, waiting for spring and everything to turn green again.
Maybe that’s the gift of seasons. We can love the one we’re in, miss parts of it when it’s gone, and still look forward to whatever comes next.
This morning, there was just enough coolness in the air to remind me that change is coming.
Ahhh. Fall is coming…I’m ready for it!
Anyway—Off We Go
© Erica Shoemaker | Anyway… Off We Go
