Autumn has a way of reminding me of my own mortality and rapidly advancing years. I've already lived approximately three-quarters of my life, which amazes me. How did it all go by so fast, and why does my body feel so much older than my mind thinks I should be?
Leaves make the perfect example of life cycles. They start out as tiny, hopeful buds in the early Spring of their existence, then mature to sturdy, deep green leaves that hold tight during summer storms. Autumn comes, and just as they reach their most vibrant and beautiful color they begin to loose their grip and wear thin. Before long they will become fragile and the first strong wind will send them swirling to the ground, where they decay and return to the earth.
We are like that too, becoming in some ways more beautiful, and perhaps more self-assured in our "golden" years, then succumbing to gradual deterioration and the changing winds of time. I truly wish it didn't end that way, and that we all could go out in a blaze of crimson glory, but when I watch a beautiful Autumn leaf being set free at last and floating slowly to it's resting place, I think perhaps it's not such a bad thing, this letting go and returning from whence we came.
