I feel a change in the weather, I feel a change in me.

There are a handful of things in this life that I can always count on to bring me joy. Writing is one of them - always has been - and it's something that I seem to have just stopped doing. Which is ridiculous of course. I haven't carved out enough time for it, I have not made it the priority it should be in my days. And now, as I work to claw my way back into it, I feel unable to shift through the many thoughts passing through my mind; I have pockets of clarity so brief they seem to have vanished by the time I have opened up my laptop or pulled my journal off of my shelf. Life gets hectic of course, it always does, but lately I have not done a very good job of putting my own personal priorities in place, of remembering to tend to the things that really matter to me and my soul. (This is where kids these days would say something like #selfcare.)

But, I'm back, here and now. And I'm trying to make myself a promise I won't stay away for so long; I'm trying to get my writing mojo back.

I am trying.

I feel as if I've been trying in a lot of aspects this fall - at my job, in carving out a space for myself in this new city of mine, in trying to be a million places at once, in working to be a million things to a million different people. Some days I'm pretty confident I'm juggling it all successfully. Others? Well, not exactly. There are moments I feel like I've let every single ball I'm juggling smash simultaneously down to the ground; others when I feel like I'm hanging on, just barely..and then, naturally, there are those shimmery moments where I feel I've got the world on a string and I can take on the next fifteen balls lobbed at me without batting an eye.

So it goes, on and on.

Lately I have been thinking a lot about how transient everything is in this life. Maybe it was my shift to a new decade (forty arrived one month + one day ago!). Perhaps it’s the fact that we’re in the heart of a really beautiful fall and this season will always and forever make me nostalgic and a bit melancholy, or maybe it’s that at forty the passage of time suddenly feels so potent. I have enough of life’s wisdom, experience, and years under my belt that I realize with a heavy heart just how fleeting all of it is. There are moments I find myself mourning before they are even over, or nostalgic for some before they have even begun. On one hand it seems silly to think like that, but so often lately I’ll find myself light in on an old memory – a small flash of a remembrance - then realize with a start that while it feels like we just did that a couple of years ago, it was in fact more than twenty years ago.

Oh, time. You really are never going to wait for us, are you?

I’ve felt this simultaneous pull – oh, how I want to slow down each and every moment because it is all gone so fast – and yet, I also find myself wishing for a fast forward button. Mostly because I want to know how it all works out in the end (don’t we all?) (it'll all work out okay right?) and I want a sneak preview of how the steps I take now or the decisions I make today will affect the rest of my days. But then, in that same breath, I realize that not knowing is exactly the point isn’t it? For some of the very best surprises have shown up when I least expected them.

There is something about this time of year that stirs these sort of feelings, every fall I feel it. I'm a summer girl at my core, but I truly have been soaking up the season of scarves and sweater weather and apples and charming brownstone stoop decorations and crunching leaves underfoot with a love and appreciation that feels anew. While I will always mourn the end of summer vegetables in season and beach afternoons and long days stretching toward a 9pm sunset, I think there is something to be said for folding in as our year turns toward autumn. The days grow shorter, the leaves change, we all seem to find ourselves in the mood for good books, spooky films, and a warm blanket to drape across our lap. We start to look inward, we re-evaluate and take stock as we subconsciously prepare for winter. Therein lies the important stuff. I see you, fall. I get it.