This past Saturday I went to an orchard with some friends. I thought we would be doing a flashlight corn maze, which I was super excited about. The thought of doing a corn maze reminded me of every horror movie and the people of the corn. While I didn’t want anything completely terrible to happen, a part of me imagined the thrill of being spooked. Instead we sat by a fire and had apple cider mimosas, which I highly recommend. They were surprisingly delicious.
It was the last weekend before the cold was headed our way. The weather was perfect. In fact the night was beyond gorgeous. There’s something about being in the country side that is nostalgic. Every star in the Sky was visible and shining ever so bright. Something that you miss out in the city. But as I was sitting there and admiring the beauty of autumn, someone came to mind.
Autumn really isn’t my favorite season. I can’t deny the beauty of the leaves changing color and all the fun fall festivities. While I am grateful to experience 4 seasons and the creation of pumpkin spice lattes, I don’t appreciate fall giving into winter so easily. There is beauty in letting things go that no longer fit. But winter seems to last more than a quarter of the year here in Chicago. Being bluntly honest, I hate the thought of long waiting seasons. The natural inclination of the human heart is to hold on to things because we fear the waiting season and the thought of the unknowns. Letting go opens up the roots of nature to create something new.
I’ll tell you right now what’s wrong with us. We try to have it all figured out. We try to have all the answers. But, who really does? How many times on our journey have we taken a detour? We put up walls and close doors, we change our path and climb mountains, we fall and then we get back up. Part of that is letting go so we can open ourselves up to what’s in front of us. While my personal life resembles autumn right now, there’s a season of more waiting headed my way. Yet on this beautiful September night, sitting near the fire and glancing up at the stars, the smell of campfire brought him to mind. It wasn’t the person I suspected I would be thinking about. I hadn’t thought of him for years. Yet before we know it, the last person we could have ever gave a second glance to invades our thoughts, leaving us wondering and glimpsing into the unknown future. Dreaming once again. Time changes us. I see something in him that I didn’t see before and I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for autumn.