Closing summer's door

The door of my office can’t be open in the mornings anymore. At least not this morning. It’s much too cold. Fall is laced in the air. We all talk about the seasons changing when they change. Is there another name for the inbetween, the actual change of a season – other than solstice? Or perhaps that’s the only word we’ve come up with. Maybe I could think of more if I stopped to think of more.

I feel we are more like the earth than we think we are. We have the same noses, the same rising and fallings. We tide and shift constantly. Our bones quake, her earth quakes. And when she is upset at the very core of her, we feel it. She lets us know. We call them natural disasters because so much life can be lost, because she has the power to destroy so much. But I don’t believe her intention is to hurt us. We are her ants digging holes. We are children and takers and needy upon her. We hardly tell her “you’re earrings look nice today,” “I like that color on you.” I’d be pissed too and tired. And as I’ve read on another blog recently in such times we need to embrace her. Not turn her away and be angry with her, but we need to hold her and stroke her hair and tell her we love her anyway. it’s what we would all want after such shakings isn’t it? Comfort from what we love.

I hope to speak to her, or to something next week. I’m floating the colorado river with family. I haven’t been able to be quiet with her for that long in so long. I’m hoping to hear her next to me in the river as I fall asleep. I’m hoping to sit with her in the mornings and watch her fog lift. I’m hoping to be still and moving at the same time. It’s where I think best – in a place I can be still and moving.

Meanwhile my cat opens all closed doors. She claws at the office door that’s been open to her for so many months. “It’s cold out,” I tell her. But I know exactly how she feels. I don’t like closed doors either.

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5 Responses to Closing summer's door

  1. Chills as I read of your coming encounters, wistful projecting as I test if her voice can be heard from this distance.

    We do need words for the in-betweens, what in some circumstance might be referred to as decent intervals. It is a blending, the going from one state to another, as though time is a form of alchemy, what was this becomes that.

  2. P.S. Were you going to write about the in-between? The topic has me thinking…would it be okay, if I come up with something postable, if I do an essay on it? No wrong answer. Marylinn

    • rachvb says:

      It’s always one or the other. Winter or fall. Spring or summer. But there is a transition. There is this place between them. I feel it and have felt it more readily this year than any other. The last weeks of August that felt like the first week of Fall and then suddenly summer roared back the heat.
      Please please please write about the in-betweens! I’d love to read it. I think that’s why we are all here – to make paths for each other. And the beauty is that what I think are the in-betweens may differ from yours and they may very much be the same. But they are each ours I think. I may write on them as now you’ve gotten me thinking more, that there’s something more there.
      Thoughts to take to the river!

  3. rachvb says:

    …And thank you to Claire for the idea that we need to embrace instead of reject. It’s a beautiful attitude.

  4. Thank you. We will see what emerges. xo

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