Seasons

Couldn't things have just stayed the same for a little while longer? I mean, we've been through a lot of change this summer. Really. But no, Father Time doesn't exactly look up from his perpetual tick tick tocking and think to himself, "Gee, life has really moved fast for these folks this summer, I'll just slow it down a bit for a couple more weeks." I know this for a fact because two things occurred yesterday to prove it.

First of all, I woke up and found a two-year old boy in that baby crib. No, I'm not kidding. Remember Lyle, that sweet little baby with the wavy brown hair? The one who two days ago (I swear) was eating his feet and jamming all ten of his fingers in his mouth at the same time, not even sure where they came from? Well, now he's this tall, lean toddler who likes to put Baxter's balled-up socks in his mouth and run around the house, his large head flopping like a bobble-head until he finds Baxter and throws himself full-force right on top of him. He knows how to get a laugh. Star of the frat house, that's my Lyle.

So that happened. But the second thing that occurred yesterday was almost more shocking. I was in front of the picture window in our living room, trying to move books off a table in order to make room for Lyle's gifts, when I spotted them. Yellow leaves. Yes, yellow. The day before, they were green.

I have been trying for two weeks now to come to terms with the fact that summer will, at some point, end. Not so much because I will miss the fun summer activities or dread the cold - I actually very much look forward to my favorite season, fall. But more because I honestly can't quite imagine life here in a different season. It's hard to describe, and very strange given that I grew up in New England where we had very distinct seasons. It's just that we have adjusted to life here. Life here in one incarnation: summer. And in San Francisco, the weather did not ever change so dramatically that it would change the way we actually did things. I mean, if you walked to the grocery store in the summer, you would do so all year. Not only did we not pull out warmer clothes at the end of the summer, but we actually put them away at that time. So I walk through the neighborhood with the kids and try really hard to take the street I'm on and imagine it "fall" or "winter" and it's very difficult.

Today it became somewhat easier. We awoke to pouring rain and wind, and when we went out this afternoon it was only 63 degrees. We dug out our jeans for the first time. I had literally not worn my jeans since leaving San Francisco, and let me tell you, it was a moment of reckoning: How much Scooter's ice cream had I really consumed? Thankfully, the answer I got from my jeans was something along the lines of, "Maybe a little too much, but you didn't completely blow it."

So Father Time marches on, even for us right now. With Lyle turning two, the leaves turning yellow, Baxter starting school next week, and me setting up my new clinic, there is no stopping it. Nor do I want to, honestly. What I do want to be sure of, though, is that I continue to stop and notice all of these changes taking place. Because it would really be a shame to miss them. It reminds me of this song, which is one of my favorites in the world and almost always makes me teary:

"Wonderwheel" by Dan Zanes (excerpt)

so begins another day
crazy stops along the way
think of funny things to say
and ride the wonder wheel

going round and around,
it takes us up and it takes us down
i love the sights and i love the sounds
riding on the wonder wheel

i looked left and i looked right
saw her smile and it was bright
like the sun that kind of light
we’re on the wonder wheel

never thought i’d go so high
thought i’d laugh until i cried
i could reach and touch the sky
we’re on the wonder wheel