The End is Near

The end is near. I can feel it in the way the shadows stretch long across the grass, waving gently to the deep green branches that beget them. The sun hits the windowpane at a new angle, and I tilt the blinds ever-so-slightly to defend my eyes. An almost imperceptible change is in the air as I step onto the front porch and survey the bluest of skies. I am not ready for this change in the seasons, and yet, it must be. The leaves will soon transform into a painted symphony of flying confetti, piling up on green moss and sloped hillsides.

I have not squandered the long sunny days of summer. I have relished each moment spent in a lounge chair on hot concrete by a rectangular oasis where my children shouted and splashed. I have celebrated life in the croaks of tree frogs as evening fell while I rested from the day’s activities on a Southern screened porch. I have labored over summer projects, long anticipated through days of school and schedules and harried rushing to and fro. Fresh paint barely dry on the walls testifies to the effort.  Still, I am not ready yet. Not ready for the chill of fall or the quickened darkness.

Maybe next week. Or the next. Maybe the sight of the flaming leaves cascading from the maple tree will inspire me to dream of mornings in a fuzzy bathrobe drinking hot coffee and reading the Word on the couch next to my children. Perhaps a chill in the air will revive joy as the aroma of chili slowly simmering in my crock pot fills every corner of home. A trip to the Blue Ridge Mountains just up the hill to pick crisp apples right from the tree and drink tart cider squeezed on the spot and nibble at warm, squishy apple doughnuts recently lifted from the deep fryer will heal my grieving heart as I say goodbye to the magic of summer.

Fresh new pencils, sharp and full of words. Crayons, the glorious smell of crayons. New school books that make a quiet cracking sound as their covers are lifted and their mysteries are unveiled one page at a time. Children filled with questions and curiosity and comments from their vantage point. Yes, we are very nearly there. I think I might just be okay with it.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:  Ecclesiastes 3:1

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