It’s funny how life is never just one thing.
Sometimes we hang our hopes on what we think will finally make life homogeneous for us. Finally make it all one shade of good. Like, when we find the one, if we’re single. Or graduate school, if we’re still taking exams. Or have a baby, if we’re childless. Or get those children in school, if we’re stuck toting on toddlers.
But life isn’t that simple. It’s never just one thing. It’s never just good, never just bad.
What an almost comically small word for such an encompassing entity.
There are so many textures and gradations that make the picture that much more interesting, really.
I talk to my friends who are having babies, and they tell me not to take my life for granted. They tell me how stifling it can be to be home all day. How exhausting and how much they miss sleep. How much they miss performing. And adult conversation. They wouldn’t trade their babies, but turns out there was no magic wand waved over their life when they gave birth. In fact, never before has life been so utterly not their own than now.
It’s beautiful; it’s hard, hard work.
Part of me can’t wait for that.
Part of me is quite content to be here. So very in control of my life. With so much freedom. The ability to get up and go whenever and wherever. It’s a precious thing, this freedom.
I talk to other friends who cannot wait to NOT be single. Who want to be home, cooking dinner for someone. They go out, night after night, so that eventually, they can stay in with someone. It’s a little ironic, actually.
I guess the best thing to do is be grateful. To dig your heels into the moment and enjoy the benefits of now. Whatever they are. Every season carries with it beauty all its own. Right now is autumn. I don’t look for the leaves to fall in springtime, otherwise I’d only ever be disappointed. I find spring’s glory in spring; I find autumn’s glory in autumn. They each exist; just not at the same time, is the thing. That can be a painful lesson to learn, but I believe it becomes more painful to not learn it.
Some of my friends are living in summer now. They ask me how the red leaves are looking. They remember them, sure, but they do not see them when they look out their window anymore. And I ask them what summer is like. I hope to see it sometime, yes; but I try to keep my mind on the season I’m in. Surely, there are enough details to fill a brain with what is going on now. Surely, projecting what might happen some day that has not yet rolled out of the sky (or wherever a day is born) would only confuse the business at hand.
Which is whatever is happening around you. Oh, and most certainly in you, too.
You know, LIFE.
The red leaves will not always be here, but they are now.
See them. Enjoy them. And when they’re gone, something else will come. Probably snow. And you’ll be made young with wonder once again as you watch an old world dress in such a fine white that you wouldn’t be surprised to see her clutch a bouquet and walk down an aisle, too.