I have noticed this month that I am considerably less philosophical and much more nostalgic. The subtle changes of fall are reminding me of my final weeks with Jonah.
This time last year Jonah had mastered the art of walking...and running. He was always a busy boy and curious beyond belief. But when he started walking he was unstoppable. I felt so content (and exhausted) as I spent my days chasing him, and climbing to the highest parts of the playground.
One day in particular keeps coming to my mind. My parents have a sinuous walkway that leads to mustardy-yellow front door. I sat at the top of the winding cement ramp and watched Jonah tip and toddle down the path through a forest of Black-eyed Susans. He loved to turn and look at me. The pride of his accomplishment radiated from him. He would pause every once and awhile and wait for me to chase him the rest of the way. I remember his sweet giggle; his blue eyes; his curious smile and adorable dimples. My arms can almost feel the motion of catching his little body, and twirling him in the air. I remember the soft warm light of a fall afternoon, and how grateful I felt.
My parents Black-eyed Susans are in full bloom right now. They have infiltrated every available inch of soil. When I walk up that winding walkway, through the maze of yellow flowers, I am reminded of my beautiful boy, his rambunctious spirit, and how blessed I was to spend my days with him.