I owe Autumn an apology.
I’ve never been much of a fan, basically because of his habit of heralding in Winter. This displeasure has blinded me to the truly spectacular display of color these few weeks bring.
Every afternoon as I travel home along the Laurel Mountain foothills, I witness a display of some of the most incredible colors. In spite of myself, I’m enjoying the reds, golds, oranges, and even brown shades of the season.
If only the end weren’t so near.
Painting my daughter’s room this weekend, and I’m trying to figure out why I have been avoiding this project. I’m one of those rare birds who love to paint.
I realize that the sadness I felt was the letting go of her “creamsicle” room to make way for her teenager, dramatic “muted purple” room. We were listening to “her music” and talking of decorating in “her color scheme”. It’s going to look fantastic, but I’m already missing the cheerful Spongebob colors.
She’s growing up, and I have truly enjoyed each and every stage. I’m facing these purple walls with apprehension, hoping I can still be part of the conversations and dreams within.
The paint has to dry for 24 hours before we put on the second coat. She has to sleep in my room tonight. And I will cherish what may be our final “sleepover”.