On the Brink

Here in the Midwest as November draws to a close, the winds blow colder and the rains fall harder. The ground squirrels and toads are tucked away for the coming winter and the warm weather birds have flown away. The last of the leaves float down from now bare branches. The grass holds on to its green for a few weeks more before the first snow falls, but morning frost scatters it with silver. In this Liminal zone between fall and winter, the visible world is laid bare, while the rest goes into snug hiding.

Like the world, I am on the brink of change. At my age I am peering ahead in time to the winter of my life, in a liminal zone between midlife and old age. I’m still a brunette, but with a scattering of silver.  I’m a little shorter than the petite I once was, a little rounder, a little more, shall we say, settled. Like the visible world, I’m not as active and out-and-about as I once was, but my inner world is far from hibernation. My random thoughts scatter like those last falling leaves, landing here and abroad with those who are kind enough to read them.

But unlike this late fall world, I choose to do more, not less. To grow, rather than lie dormant. To work, rather than retire. To move ahead, rather than look back. To seek change and opportunity. I choose to look forward to winter as though it were spring.

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