It's gray this morning. The sun seems to be oversleeping while the soft clouds blanket the earth in stillness. I'm hearing school buses and kids out on the sidewalk and feeling grateful that those oh-so-busy back-to-school mornings are over for this household. Although, I do remember them fondly, now that I don't have to force-feed myself coffee and drag the dusty ironing board out and coax the kids from their beds with promises of new friends and cool backpacks and surprise treats in lunchboxes.
I love clouds. It's OK that the hot blue skies with fluffy white imaginary animals are gone for the year, replaced by the muted sky hanging lower and coaxing the trees to let go of their leaves. Season changes coax me to let go, too, and that's a healthy thing.
I noticed my closet this morning, and that I never got around to putting away winter clothes last spring (see yesterday's post: Procrastination). There's a lot in there that I need to let go -- I'm never going to mend that dress, iron those shirts, fit into that pair of slacks, or look good in that particular shade of orange. The season change seems to me to be designed specifically for letting go.
We have five people living here at the moment, one of whom has a job. He's the one not related to us, although I hope he and Katie stay together -- he's a gem. The brownie business and hunger-relief charity are meant to create jobs for Will and Katie, and I believe they will, eventually. Knute and I are resigned to our disabilities and decreasing our obligations as our capacities shrink. Letting go of busy-ness, productivity, feeling useful is a tough one for both of us.
I'm focusing on the clouds today. They come and go, they let loose their moisture and nourish the earth with life-sustaining water. They flow, ever graceful, with no resistance. I want to be more like clouds.