almost october

Posted on Saturday, October 13, 2012

We chose April.  I wanted daffodils, the emergence of new beginnings, green raindrop-guzzling life all around us on our wedding day.  We almost chose October – for me, the time of settling into rest, forgiveness and permission of less work, more Sabbath, and a maturing of all things.


I walked by a leaf yesterday on an afternoon walk.  Napping, it rested plainly and quietly and looked up at me with such innocence.  Her body spread like a palm of fire. 


We almost chose October.


We continued our walk, my husband and I, each crisp crackling of dried leaves accompanying us.  Some, like I am so desperately trying to do, finally let go.  Others still hang on tightly to the branches.  Others are losing grip.


When I was a little girl, my father raked and raked the fallen leaves of our front yard.  He laughed as we jumped in the high pile, thick enough to keep us from thumping into the hard ground.  I can still see his smile.  I can still hear his laugh.


He didn’t come to our April wedding.  He wouldn’t have come in October either.  But I know, choosing that blooming April afternoon, that he would have loved it.  Peach roses, surefire daffodils, and sweet freesia packed in my bouquet, held his love.  Our bands, hung on the cross he built for me when I was a little girl, brought him back.  The canopy of redwoods would have made him cry.


We chose April, a spring wedding day, when hope and the birthing of a new life was what we needed.  Now, in October, I give thanks, as I remember what this time of year means to me.


I choose October as my time to give myself permission to reminisce, dream and sleep.  I give myself permission to watch each brave leaf let go, knowing that by April, something new will be shooting forth after months of humility, after months of rain, after months of much-needed rest.  The days are growing darker.  I welcome this cold, black time, where hibernation thrives; where I lay like a fattened cub drunk off the fullness of the year.  I am eager this October to begin this repose.  Soon enough, a crack of light will wake me up again, opening the doors of my den to a field of wild daffodils.


Behind the scenes

This was a fifteen-minute writing prompt.  I was asked to write about October.


feature image of my wedding bands provided by Todd Rafolovich

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