It’s the falling she protests. I watch her, whether in my arms or in her crib, as her eyelids become heavy, the interval between slow blinks becoming longer and longer. And instead of drifting off, allowing her tiny body to float gently to sleep, she starts, stiffens, cries, as if she stands, not at the water’s edge, but on a great precipice.
We’ve had a good stretch of warm, sunny days lately, but make no mistake–autumn is upon us. The leaves are turning shades of gold and scarlet, some of them already dropping to the ground. And rather than bask in the beauty of the current season, my mind has already flashed ahead, to the long months of winter stretched out before us. We arrived here in winter, but, frigid as it was, the worst of it had already passed. I’m not looking forward to the cold, gray months to come.
Same window, different view.
Want to participate? Check out Mel’s post to find out how.