My heart is preparing itself for winter. I find myself wondering how I will survive. These seasons of my life are the hardest and the most full of wonder that I will ever know.
There is the solitude of marriage; the solitude of motherhood; the solitude of snow, just on the horizon.
How will I go on?
The days are long and hard. The darkness comes too early, again. I think, “This, too, shall pass.” Although the little voice that lives in my heart says, “No. Stay. Freeze here, time. Don’t let them grow. Don’t let them leave me.”
The season of my life has turned. I used to live with the fear of losing romantic love, afraid of loneliness in that way. Now I live in with fear of my children growing away from me. Still babies, but I’ve been taught for a lifetime how quickly it will pass. And even as the hands of the clock drag slowly through these saddest hours–I know now. My baby is a little boy already.
I live with it. The ache of knowing the very preciousness of these moments. It pulls at me. Weights me down, like grief.
Have faith, old heart. After night comes day. After winter comes spring.