By: Jennifer Richardson Holt
Things are changing. There is a deep restlessness somewhere in the inmost fibers of my being that seem to be from a conglomeration of sources. I won’t say that it is fear, at least not in its entirety though some is there, but in the pit of my stomach there is an uncertainty and an anxiousness. I know that sounds all very foreboding and I truly do not mean it to be. I suppose for the most part we all crave certainty and stability. I know I am not particularly fond of change. I enjoy a nice comfortable and pleasantly predictable routine to the comings and goings of my life. But I can feel the winds of so many things coming. I know some of them you can probably feel too. There are those aspects of transition that will be affecting everyone I suppose and then there are some times coming that will be specific to me. I will still likely thrust them upon you in writing whether you want to hear about them or not. Hopefully, you will nod in agreement, familiarity or nostalgia. So today I bring to you the turning of tides if you will. Tides of my own seas as well as the ocean that laps upon all of our shores.
It begins simply as things often do. Living where I do we face this every year and as I am certain I have told you before I am never emotionally prepared. The glorious pleasantries of spring are fading. The blooms are still flourishing though the species are new. Sadly though, as of late I have noticed the cool breezes, while still present are becoming sparser and less potent. The sun that was once a gentle kiss of warmth is starting to become a bit more domineering in its approach at imparting affection. I’m finding myself when out of doors seeking shade far more often than I was. Only a few weeks ago I reveled in the sun’s embrace and now I find myself enduring it for the briefest period of time as possible before seeking shadow as relief. We are nearing the time of year here when what was once the beauty of nature will now have us seeking reprieve. It is such a shame too. I will miss having a fondness for the sunshine, but alas most of my good will toward the weather shall now be stored away until likely sometime in mid-October. The great damp yet somehow still fire-breathing dragon that is the southern summer is stirring from it’s all too brief slumber and he is coming for us all.
The next stage of transition that I face is one that belongs especially to me and mine. My lone child shall begin the adventure that is school this year. As you can probably guess, to say there are mixed emotions is likely the understatement of the century. This is my one and only so to send her off to that first taste of the world, well, it is…a lot. It is in fact so much that I really like to push it to the back of my mind as often as it attempts to peek around a corner of my mental corridors. I pretend that the weeks watching her grow like fertilized kudzu aren’t actually happening and that I don’t see some new facet of maturity in her every single day. I imagine August to be some month that is decades away as that feels more like a time frame which I could feasibly work with to prepare myself for something of this magnitude. To know that my daughter is anxious and probably a fair amount on the scared side of this next step tends to encourage me to push this even further out of my mind. I have seen how summer as it is has crept up on me though so late summer, oh dear, it’s not even in a different season! If you’re the praying kind, you now have a combination of mother (and all the family if we’re honest here) and daughter and a momentous thing called kindergarten to jot onto your prayer list. And if you are not the praying kind, I encourage you to become such because now you have meaningful content.
The last great change that I will visit today is one I have skirted about for the most part of my last year of blogging. I have only mentioned in passing this worldwide pandemic. Mostly I assumed we all were surrounded by discussion of such on all sides and if you came to recreationally read a blog then you certainly didn’t need that to have followed you here. I think we all know that nobody comes here to read in depth socio-political or medical analysis, so I left such things to the experts. I will say that it seems that we are, at least here in this country, turning what seems to be a corner. Things are beginning to reopen. Many restrictions are being eased. Now, I certainly do not wish to stir up any strong emotion one way or the other for these developments. They are that which they are and as we have done with the pandemic’s arrival we shall learn to live with such things. However, I have frequently heard it asked, “Will things ever go back to how they were?” I find that an interesting question and answer it with more. What if things do not go back? Were things so perfect as they were or were they just comfortable and therefore we took them for granted? Was life before all this simply what we were accustomed to and therefore what we want again?
Perhaps we should all attempt to embrace that sobering thought that maybe things will never go back. But maybe things will go forward. Maybe we will learn and grow and be better for all that our difficulties and challenges have taught us. Maybe when changes come to us, we will face the fact that the caterpillar basically must turn into goo before he can burst forth as a magnificent butterfly. I am certainly talking to myself when I say maybe we need to look at the disconcerting nature of change as getting us out of our comfort zones and building us into greater things. When the strange and possibly frightening unknown lies ahead of us, we need to become seeds and take advantage of the strange darkness and do what we are called to do. Yes, (she said to firmly to herself) the bursting open in the full dramatic force of change is challenging for a seed but afterward is when the real magic begins, and we grow!
Prose and Possibilities 