It’s quiet and dark but it’s GO time. My oldest is now in middle school and that means we get up while everyone else is still sleeping. At 6:40am, Reagan and I walk out the door to head to the bus stop. The brisk morning air hugs our faces. I glance at my Apple watch and see it’s 49 degrees – our coldest school morning yet.
It’s cold, Mom,” Reagan says.
I can’t help but chuckle and shake my head in amusement. “It will be almost 80 by this afternoon. Let’s run!” I say like a spirited military sergeant, and immediately we jog side-by-side down the curving hill towards the bus stop. The air feels so refreshing, so crisp. At 49 degrees, it’s what my mother refers to as “energy weather.”
My heart races and I feel happy to have this brief window of time with my oldest before the full sun rises. He’s such a good kid – observant but flexible to my sudden bus stop sprints.
As we run, we keep our ears perked for who can spot the bus coming around the bend first. In the still of the cold air, we both instantly recognize the humming of the bus’s engine as it winds its way around the curve while its two high beamed headlights shine through the cluster of pine trees. Now, as we sprint, I laugh while saying: “He’s got to turn around the cul-de-sac and come back down, Speed Racer Reagan!”
I never slow down because it’s old-fashioned fun in a ‘catch-me-if-you-can’ kind of way. Even though I know that the mornings will get colder as Fall stumbles in, I still feel grateful that I can participate in the race to the bus stop with my Reagan, my determined one.
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Fall, you funny in-between season, with whopping temperature changes in as little as three-to-six hours.
Fall, you big tease. You unpredictable, yet glorious beast — just like my Brady. On some days, you radiate so, my eyes are stunned by the intensity of colors. On other days, you remind me that Summer still wants to keep its sweaty hold. And of course, you like to tap my shoulder and give me a taste of Winter with cold drizzly rains and chilly wind gusts.
Fall, you gorgeous malleable one. Don’t let Summer be too greedy; don’t allow Winter to come too soon. I’m bundling up in the mornings and peeling off layers by early afternoon, only to wrap up again in the evenings.
You are a breath-taking, vibrant season that reminds me that life is so transitory and fragile.
A green leaf becomes a piercing, vibrant red. It holds onto its branch and sways as the wind whistles by.
A young boy who chooses to wear only bright red, blue, yellow or orange shirts races by. In some ways, he is like a Fall leaf, brazenly bursting with color. The almost 10-year-old autistic boy is holding his yellow bucket as he gathers materials from the yard. Acorns, berries from the front bushes, small caterpillars, a few twigs, and a bunch of colored leaves.
Once satisfied, Brady squats down under a tree while carefully emptying his bucket of chosen findings. Brady doesn’t dump things anymore. Now, he collects, empties, organizes and creates things for as long as an hour. Our expansive yard is a treasure trove with a massively appealing amount of black walnut seeds wishing for attention – but no more – not when Brady is in the yard with his bucket. While he may not be discriminatory with the large walnut balls that litter a corner of our yard, when it comes to Fall leaves, Brady only takes the brightest ones.
“I have leaves for you, Mom!” he yells out as he excitedly barges in the side door.
“Oh, wow, let me get a plate so you can make a display for me,” I reply while looking for my wide clear glass plate.
This is all part of Fall fun. As for the abundance of brown crinkly leaves that accumulate in our yard during the latter months of the year? Those are reserved for a very special purpose.
On a seemingly random weekend before Thanksgiving, the rakes go missing from the garage. Brady and his brothers are making huge leaf piles in the front yard. As I watch them through a window, I see Brady pause and then purposely toss his rake to the side. Before Reagan can yell out “Not yet!”, Brady has plunged his body right into the pile.
What Reagan fails to understand (but it really doesn’t matter) is that Brady cannot help himself. The intense sensory thrill of thrusting oneself into a pile of crinkly leaves is just as exhilarating for Brady as it is to throw himself into a big crashing wave. Now he’s rolling wildly in the leaves as he giggles and throws some up in the air. Soon younger brother Cedric throws himself inside the pile while Reagan feels the pull of carefree play versus serious, intense raking.
I never know which way Reagan will lean in each situation with his brother Brady. In some ways, it makes me laugh when Brady defies the orderly nature of his oldest brother because it forces Reagan to join in or walk away shaking his head in annoyance. Brady is certainly the ying to Reagan’s yang.
Fall is kind of a beautifully reckless season, bursting with blinding colors one week and then suddenly dropping all signs of life on the ground overnight. Paradoxical in nature, Fall also reminds me of death. It grips my mind with the truth that everything eventually dies. I remember loved ones who passed away in the Fall season (the children’s Grandma Dee Dee, my brother Matthew) and it is always a solemn reminder of the fragility of life. For many years, my beloved mother-in-law regularly visited us in the Fall to admire Virginia’s robust, brilliant colors and of course to pour her unconditional love on all her grandchildren.
However, the Fall holds many gorgeous blessings. Two of my children were born in the Fall months and their zestful spirits help me see the beauty in pausing and reveling in the moment. I purposely do this with my kids on our daily walks to school or on weekend nature walks.
If we stop to see the colors and even take a picture, we will notice other things around us. Perhaps it will be a giant caterpillar, the way the leaves are rustling under our feet, or the lost ladybug that lands on a sibling’s shirt. The sun’s warmth is appreciated as it highlights the vibrancy of color on the trees and bushes. The crisp air makes my heart beat a little faster as I start my day spontaneously jogging to the bus stop with my oldest son.
Fall, you miraculous, spontaneous beauty. I recognize your complicated truths about life and death. And because of this, you make me grateful for my life and the lives of loved ones whose vibrant spirits lift me up even as days get darker and colder.
This post is part of Kristi Campbell’s Finish the Sentence Friday. Check out other thoughtful posts about the Fall season at www.findingninee.com.
Beautiful and true. I love the stories that anchor this, and the meandering thoughts that come, too. Yes to all of this.
Thank you, Madra. I appreciate you reading it.❤️
I really like this one, Rebecca! I think Fall may be my favorite, and yet, like you, it reminds me of seasons and life endings. I’m really sorry about Grandma DeeDee – that’s such a great photo of her with all of your awesome kiddos. You’re such a great mama – I love how you find time to make things like an early morning trip to the bus stop fun! Also, I know that corn bin, but now can’t remember where it is. It’s not Frying Pan, but the other one??
Beautiful — Thank you —
Sigh, that ending took my breath away. Complicated truths about life and death, indeed. And oh, that beauty.
When I was a kid and right after my father died, someone gave me a book on dealing with grief called, “The Fall of Freddy the Leaf” which was actually really helpful. I couldn’t read it at first but people read it to me until I could.
I think we still have it.
Thanks, Tamara. That is the exact book I bought and read to my children (multiple times) last fall when their grandma passed away from cancer. I was thinking of that story as I wrote this particular blog.