Ripe
by Valerie Gillies
Here I am, sitting at the computer trying to write something coherent, while inches away my thirteen year old is melting down at the prospect of the first day of school tomorrow…
I am breathing. Deeply. Slowly. Trying to plant myself in a solid place as the door slams and the tornado comes and goes from my room. I refuse to be swept away…
Outdoors, it is a stunning evening. There are actual, real life pumpkins in my otherwise barren vegetable garden. While I rued the loss of my tomatoes and chard to deer, the vines crept around, secretly fruiting under enormous leaves. Those big, beautiful pumpkins are now turning orange…
My life is ripe. I have gone enough distance to know that the unpleasant noise and distraction of this evening is merely that. And if I can wait it out for a very short while, the chaos will give birth to opportunity…
Autumn is the season when I re-set my life. To my children, as with my earlier self, transitions are accompanied by more fear and anxiety than hope and anticipation. Without my noticing exactly when, the scales have tipped in the opposite direction. I now find times of change to be the easiest in which to do things differently—sort out, discard, clean up, and begin…