I took a ride up the mountain road today and was suddenly struck by the fact that it is fall. The later part of fall, past the point of the glorious autumnal bursts of colors, colors so beautiful when pitted against the cool blue of the sky it can make you ache inside, an ache of desire to preserve the scene forever. But I missed it this year, just failing to ever look up as I repeatedly traversed that mountain road, fetching the kids following yet another sojourn to Philly. I missed it, as I feverishly ran an errand, impatient to return home, a bit fearful at the possibility of missing a phone call from the hospital. I missed it because life has preoccupied me with ... other concerns. The point is, somehow I missed yet another season, as this particular season of my life has consumed my time, my attention. I remember last fall. How I yelled to the kids to put down their various electronic devices and look, just look!!! , how beautiful nature can be. I remember taking pictures, taking walks, enjoying the briskness of the air, the cool breezes, the beauty of the mountains adorned with so many vibrant colors. I remember feeling so blessed, to be able to share autumn with my children, to have children who can appreciate autumn ... and a walk ... and their mother. Fall is my favorite season. And this year, I missed it.
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