The leaves are colored tiles fallen to the earth. I woke up to a biting chill in my house. It is time to turn on the heat and stack wood for the fireplace.
In my home, life buzzes quietly. A pet snores and I have been curled up on the couch with good watching and good reading. I am tired and still in my pajamas. I've claimed the blanket on my couch and haven't moved except to brew tea. I am enjoying the day in a way I have only recently learned to--in quiet stillness.
The less I have to talk, the better. Everyone else in this house can take care of each other. I need to be alone with my thoughts or at least uninterrupted. I need to gather myself because the week to come will surely be a trial. I won't think about that now though. I will think about popcorn and cider. I will rest as any stress that remains from the week past drifts away.
It went quickly, the last five days. Decisions were made that throw my life into flux. My schedule will be changing. I will need to adjust. This is difficult for me. I rely heavily on routine. Consistency. Dependability.
I have been thinking about this much lately--my need for clear, expected action. It is what threw my friendship first into orbit and revealed the hidden fractures. I was consistent, dependable. They were variable and reactive. I made space for safety. They absorbed that space and ripped my safety away. Where I am now, I can see the patterns in fallen leaves and the patterns of a fallen friendship. One is beautiful. The other I don't care for and this is fine.
I feel fine. I feel calm. I think--and I hesitate here because I don't want to set myself back--I think I am recovered. Or very close.
My life is turning over a new leaf with the seasons. What has fallen away lost its color and dried up first. I collect the pliant remains and fashion myself something new. It feels safe to celebrate what was lost. Finally. I have wanted to for so long.
Words fall from me like leaves from the trees. They find their rest as do the trees and I.
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