There are seasons in nature and seasons in life. Spring, with its budding trees and revival of green grass signifies the hope of summer—a time of great rejoicing for most Minnesotans. Fall is a bountiful season with its many colors, but hints of another season—winter.
Winter is not, usually, a favored season. Colder temperatures, white crowns, less options for leisure activities and boredom with prolonged containment are just a few of the reasons.
My parents, both currently here on this earth, are experiencing those same conditions in a variety of ways. But I don’t know for how long. Despite my active days, I am mindful of life’s seasons. I keep seeing those “snowflakes” fluttering down through emails, phone calls and texts.
In a group text from my siblings: “Has someone checked on Dad lately?”
An email from my dad: “Your mother fell this week.”
My mother is deeper into winter than my father, with her white hair, less options and prolonged stay in a facility she would prefer not to be.
And I have watched too many friends lose their parents recently. The lump in my throat is often a selfish reaction. I am aware my colors are changing—I’m in early winter with my parents. And the snow flurries, at times, make clarity of my station too real.
Last week I couldn’t see the flags on the golf course just outside my office window due to the raging winds and blowing snow—in April, no less. Today, the lawn crew for our association is mowing.
May a season you are not enjoying change soon. And may a season you want to hang onto for as long as possible with many delays be extended beyond its usual interval and stay—oh, please stay—just a little bit longer.