In these last few calendar days of summer, I have been clinging. More to our summer memories rather than actual time. Though as I put it in writing they seem one and the same. We began the summer days knowing they were Jane’s last days at home, her last days all to us, filled with our rhythm and influence and warmth. It seemed like we were losing her when the winds came, and that she would never be the same. Over three weeks time she has changed. Though others may argue it’s still too early to really tell, to a detail oriented mother who knows her emotional and heart subtleties, I can see the separation, her solitary mind filling with things I can’t know. This is most noticeable as she transitions home in the afternoons.
Her new day’s rhythm might be away from the slow, familiar rhythm that was full and vibrant with home, but she still looks to us in the end. Still seeks approval and love, sharing those stories of people and experiences I didn’t share, at least in person. Still sneaking close for cuddles at night, and still knowing where home is. Maybe that solitude she feels during the day has helped her to clarify what home means to her. It certainly has helped me create the sort of home I want her to know.
It already feels like mid autumn here in Michigan, the transition lasting a mere day or two. The loss was an immediate shock, though the memory is still fresh enough I can almost feel the warm sticky midwest summer air and hear the cicadas in the trees before I walk through our back door into a cool crisp early autumn shade. Memories of the heat and sun make me love summer all the more. Truly, we don’t know what we have, nor can we experience its greatest beauty and importance until it is gone. The passing of things; moments, ideas, people, reveal their matchless value. Gratefully, summer will be back. And I will pray, with all intention, that our home will always be.