I’ve been feeling all sorts of everything lately: blissful, sad, envious and nostalgic. In my heart it feels as though it should be autumn, having grown up on the east coast of Canada, but Las Vegas remains steadfast in its determination to keep summer around. This morning we actually had the front and back doors open for a good hour, so for now I will cling to this and take small victories wherever and whenever I can find them.
The problem is that I can’t seem to get my mind off of autumn. My house smells of pumpkin spice, my tea collection has grown exponentially, blankets now litter the house ready to be cuddled under, and I’m sniffing around for a change in the air.
Fall has always been my favorite. I’m anxious to get outside with DJ and introduce him to everything that he has – for the most part – been sheltered from because of the sun and heat. I want him to love fall the way that I do; I want the three of us to love it as a family, the way that I did growing up.
The other concern that I have been unable to shake these days is my failure to document life in words the way that I used to. My thoughts have always been slippery and they disappear quickly, easily crushed my distraction, and so: days go by without me writing a single word. Twenty-nine year old me is screaming for inspiration to hit me the way they did twenty-year old me. I was a powerhouse back then, I couldn’t put the damn pen down. I can’t help but wonder why at the point in my life where the most is happening, where the most has changed, have I seemingly gone silent? And as a writer who has always needed to record my thoughts the moment they enter my mind, how do I balance this with motherhood?
All of these thoughts and concerns culminate in my day to day life, and I just can’t shake the feeling that it’s tied to the seasons, and that somehow, in some magical force beyond me, autumn will bring with it a sense of peace and contentment, and maybe, just maybe, some balance.