Backtracking

 

Flowers of summer, now gone.

 

The leaves are almost all on the ground now. One more wind storm, or even a gentle breeze, and the barren branches will be all we have until spring.

I have experienced this transitional season for more than sixty years now and it still conjures up the same feelings it did in my youth. The incredible beauty of gold, yellow, orange, and red, suddenly gives way to a total lack of colour in such a short period of time. There is a feeling of loss, almost the same feeling as growing old, but with a concentrated and contracted time line. Loss, yes, but also a feeling of nostalgia as we realise that the leaves will not come back, just as our youth will not come back.

In literature, Autumn has often been synonymous with old age. The parallels are many. The loss of life, or at least the onset of dormancy, the coming chills as our circulation is not what it used to be, the approach of winter and its symbolism, the end of the year drawing nigh as one's life comes to its conclusion, and putting the seasons of new life (spring) and vibrancy (summer) behind us.

 

But, as each year passes, I get more of a feeling of resignation, something that one does not experience in youth. Here is where cliches abound, such as 'time marches on', 'you cannot stop the clock', 'the older I get, the shorter the days get', and 'everybody has to die so don't fight it'. Resignation, for me, does not mean simply giving up, but rather coming to terms with it and finding ways to make the transition to the 'Golden Years' meaningful and even fun.

 

Clinging to one's youth and looking ridiculous in the process is not for me. Being totally gracious and sophisticated about it is a fine option, but not for me either. I want to keep a sense of humour as well as retain my sense of wonder of the world around me, and watch changes in my life, with greater interest, as the final chapters of my story begin to emerge. More than anything I want to keep my mind sharp, not that it ever was, but losing what I have been given is not a self chosen option for me. I want to stay relevant, informed, opinionated (in a good way) and I want to continue to be able to communicate, converse, and network with as many people as possible. 

 

As a result, in my last years of working with the public, I appreciate so much the new friendships I make, the people I meet, and the meaningful conversations I have with them. I am realising, with greater clarity, that the people I have come in contact with during 38 years of business have been the best reason for doing what I did.

 

We worked for a very good and loyal client today. As the leaves were falling on their property, and these thoughts were drifting into my mind, it hit me that I may never work for them again. I may meet them on the street one day, but the privilege of serving them will be forever gone. After all, it is the Autumn of my life.