Autumn Affinity

This week is a time for me to pause and reflect. It is the tenth anniversary of my mother’s death. It seems like yesterday that she was with me and so long ago all at the same time. When I remember her, I remember all the happy times I had with her as a child: all the meals she prepared, all the places we traveled to, all the comfort she meted out. My mother was a teacher and an artist, and an incredible dressmaker. She made many of my little girl dresses and Halloween costumes. She loved to read and to listen to Frank Sinatra. When hear “Old Blue Eyes” croon on the radio, I cry and remember my mother’s face as she listened and sang along.

Autumn is a season of loss. The leaves change color, dry, and fall from their branches. The trees become temporary skeletons and the sky turns smoky gray. There is a quietness that settles in like the cold. It is a time to go inward, to remember and to be grateful. So much of who my mother was is nestled inside me: teaching, reading, creating, singing, and stubborn hopefulness and a will to go on. And so I go on into yet another winter with her within me.