It is a gorgeous day here in New England. The sugar maples are turning brilliant red and there are splashes of golden yellow and orange leaves, with wonderful wafts of wild grapes and ripe apples in the air. With the cooler breezes come the excitement of change in the air, so like the squirrels, we are busy preparing for the changes to come! Rather than preparing for another long, cold winter, we will finally uproot from beautiful, scenic New England and set sail on our big adventure, meeting people from all walks of life, offering our talents, services, and friendship as we lead Laughter Yoga sessions and launch our health and wellness coaching business.
Autumn in NE has been my most relished time of the year, albeit a mixed blessing with the long, harsh winters that always follow (harsh, that is, for this Kentucky born Army brat). I know I will miss these particular stirrings of new beginnings, the often dazzling, colorful and fragrant reminders of the impermanence of all things.
But no matter where we are, the fall will always be a time of new beginnings--schools start, the Jewish New Year is celebrated as is my birthday and the birthdays both of my parents who are, thankfully, still alive and well. I just may always yearn for the smell and sensations of New England autumns and hope to be transported there quite unexpectedly from time to time with the smell of grapes, the sound of leaves crunching under my feet, the fall harvests, Halloween, certain music and voices, and maybe even the first frost of the year bringing that invigorating, chilly nip.
As Keith has said to me many a time of late, "I am looking forward to being able to miss New England". For me, I am holding space within for both grieving the old and familiar and celebrating the new. Stepping into the void of the unknown has been unsettling indeed, but that is exactly what is required of us right now to uproot after 20 amazing years here.
Now that I have shared my piece, I will step out to hula hoop under the pine trees with the decreasingly warm sunlight reflecting off the lake, and take in all the autumn beauty that surrounds me, breathing it deeply into the recesses of my being. Like a squirrel storing acorns, I will keep being conscious of such moments so that I may call upon them in my mind's eye some rainy day on the road when I am homesick for the good old North lands, Kennedy's Country, this majestic part of God's green earth.
~Mary
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Nice writing, Mary! That is the one thing about travelling -- the more places you come to love, the more places there are to miss. Or maybe, eventually, you get to the point of being just where you are all the time? And you can always come back for autumn in New England . .
ReplyDeletelove,
Lisa
I am excited for you both, and hope for the best for you. It's a tough road at times; I have found that I am homesick in ways I never imagined. If I could come back and visit for a bit, it would be a lot easier. I think that what you will learn will be extraordinary in unimaginable ways, and you two have the advantage of going from community to community, so you will not feel so isolated. Nice bit of writing, Mary, and I look forward to more. Your description of fall in NE made me momentarily miss the pungent smells and sights of NE.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Paul and Lisa! This was my first solo entry here and it is affirming to get your feedback. I will keep writing and sharing along the way, especially once the way gets long!
ReplyDelete