Final Petal Fallen

The sun is warm on my skin, and the river sparkles in my eyes.  The breeze blows through my newly grown hair, and the grass is cool on my feet.

There are no shoes needed on an afternoon like this.

My lungs breathe deeply, as if outside for the first time in months, as if I missed summer completely, and it changed to autumn while I wasn’t looking.

I did try.  I had morning runs around the hospital those weeks in July and August.  I had runs through the country when staying at my aunt’s or camping nearby. In August and September.  I ran with my puppies at the lake every time I came home, and walked at the river every time I had a break from work.

But grief is a sucker punch, even when you know it’s coming.  It feels wrong to run until you can’t breathe, when someone else can’t even move and barely breathes. It feels surreal to follow a normal work schedule to maintain the mundane things of life, like making mortgage payments, when the life that gave me life is ending.

The wall of flowers next to me are bright and happy, but looking closely you can see they are losing their petals, that the petals are almost gone.

I cannot change the past, and I cannot put the petals back.  I cannot stop winter from coming.

I can, though, see the tall stems and remember the joys of summer, without complaining about the heat or whining about the drought.

I know the seasons by the feel of the grass on my feet, and I know the Earth by her songs.

The season is changing, and time is about to pass.

The Earth sings a song about the final petal falling.

I cannot undo the past, and I cannot put the petals back, but I can remember the days when bees and butterflies drank from the final days of summer.

I can remember the day the Earth sang that the summer had passed, and that autumn had come.

I can remember that after winter, spring always comes.

I always was a springtime kind of girl.

Posted in Life permalink

About Emily

I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints since 2009. I serve as a Chaplain, and work as a counselor. I got bilateral cochlear implants in 2010, but will always love sign language. I choose books over television, and organics over processed. Nothing is as close to flying as ballroom dancing - except maybe running, when in the solo mood. I would rather be outside than anywhere else, especially at the river riding my bike or kayaking. PhD in Marriage and Family Therapy, and currently doing a post-doc in Jewish Studies and an MDiv in Pastoral Counseling. The best thing about Emily World is that it's always an adventure, even if (not so) grammatically precise. The only thing better than writing is being married to a writer. Nathan Christensen and I were married in the Oklahoma City temple on 13 October 2012, and have since fostered more than eighty-five children. We have adopted the six who stayed, and are totally and completely and helplessly in love with our family. Nathan writes musical theater, including "Broadcast" (a musical history of the radio) and an adaption of Lois Lowry's "The Giver". He served his mission in South Korea, has taught song-writing in New York City public schools, and worked as a theater critic for a Tucson newspaper. This is not an official Web site of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

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