September 16, 2004

Seasons

Today I saw the first tree turned its colors for autumn; it stood there in burnished copper leaves reminding me that the world moves in inevitable cycles.

For a minute I could relate -- the cycles of RA and feeling good and feeling poor -- that all things end and begin in their due time.

I've been thinking a lot lately what it means to write about this, to put these feelings as closely as I can into words. I've pondered on the facts of my condition: the days of swelling and the days of reprieve, the medicines, the fact that my life span will most likely be cut short 15-20%.

Sometimes I think we sleepwalk our days, we forget that --RA or not-- none of us are getting out of this life alive. What are we doing to make each one count? What am I doing -- I, that should be most aware -- to make each day something? And what should it be? Accomplishment? A creative act? Once again I find myself with more questions than answers, with more unknowns than knowns.

When I think about the fact that I may not live as long as everyone else, it's like that first autumn tree- the first to show its color. The lesson I think make it a blaze, make the life you've got a bright and beautiful thing, even if you're the first to shed your leaves. The late-harvest colors of golds and rusts and browns are lush with possibilities and I feel best when there is the crispness in the air.

I am quietly soothed by the fact that fall is coming. To all things, there is a season, but if one might be mine, I think it is autumn.

Posted by renee | Filed under:

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