A change of season or a season of change
Instead, I'm going to enjoy fresh breezes and the leaves that are just now starting to turn colors here. My holly bushes are filled with berries that are dull orange now. Come winter, they will be dotted with bright red. The nandinas along my driveway have started their cool weather transformation from green to burgundy. Even when I'm in the middle of migraine pain aura, I can still see how the soy bean field across the street looks like a Van Gogh celebration of yellows, golds and greens. On weekdays, I can hear the noisy ruckus of children at recess on the elementary school playground, and it's a happy sound now instead of an innervating annoyance.
It's hurt to see beauty and happiness for a long time now. I've actually felt resentful when I've seen couples in their seventies and eighties out together, knowing I won't have that. I have to welcome good things back into my life because I want more than sadness and pain. Part of the process of mourning has been accepting that sadness and pain, allowing it to have the room it's needed.
It's time to say that beauty has room in my life. Yes, the pain and the loss are still there, as sharp and demanding as ever, but there has to be room for more. I have to make the room. It's a conscious effort, and that's why I've been surfing for art. It's one of the ways I seek good things.
The painting is Alphonse Mucha's Autumn.
art, grief, recovery,