I drive down the same few streets most days, the kind of routes my car could likely make on its own, where I’m more attuned to what’s flooding my speakers or what the kids are saying from behind my seat. The leaves began turning a little while ago, reminding me each time I see another tree bursting into color that time is streaming forward whether I’m ready to see it go or not.
I’m currently tired and a little worn down. I feel caught between expectations and the realty that hours and minutes can only be stretched so far before something has to give.
A few weeks ago I started a workout challenge at my studio: 18 classes in 21 days. As I already took class most weekday mornings, I personally challenged myself to get the classes finished in 14 days instead. I met my goal, but my body fought back: a sore calf that doesn’t seem to want to bounce back into action anytime soon.
I’m trying to breathe through it, to accept a handful of rest days, maybe do a few days of juicing while I’m not worried about keeping up my energy for workouts or runs. I’m struggling, though. Working out prepares me for the other items on my to-do list; I have more patience and focus and overall enthusiasm for less-than-exciting tasks when I start the day with grit and sweat.
I can’t tell quite yet if the kids are thriving this fall or trying to find their footing as well. We’re busy with activities, but we’re not over scheduled to the point of falling into the house at night, exhausted. Their amazing teachers have both limited homework this year to readings, some math practice, and work they didn’t finish in school. I’ve already noticed a difference in the way our afternoons go, and I’ll probably write more about that later, when I’m not so scattered and staring out the window at the sun turning leaves into burnished gold instead of a faded yellow.
My dad’s birthday fell during a time when we were replacing an old car with a new one, bringing up all sorts of “what ifs” and “I wish” and an overall sense of sadness that continues to crop up when I least expect it. We’re working through our grief, I think, though I’m no longer sure “through” is the right word for it. Maybe we’re working with our grief, finding solace in each other when we need to and learning to take care of ourselves when it seems like the last thing we should be doing.
My words here took a turn I wasn’t expecting. I’d planned on more of a brief update about where we’ve been this fall, since it hasn’t been in this space. I’ll leave them here, though, allowing them weight and space, and hoping they make room for something new.