Fall Wreath
Fall wreath
The fall wreath placed, is bittersweet.
Vibrant colors, goodbye heat.
Inviting door is there to greet,
the coming season. Reaping wheat,
from pastures yellow,
acorns dropped; the earth is mellow.
Gardens bend their weary heads,
and tired Clematis crave their beds.
The wreath for winter, calls December,
no more the colors of September.
Greens and reds, alive, throw ember
shades of winter, all remember.
Welcome Winter, cozy nights,
streets are filled with warm house lights,
Fingers chill from cold frost bites,
shortest day, within our sights.
Living In The Present
When I was young, my life was an open road, stretching endlessly toward the horizon. A multitude of goals, rites of passage, and fantasies filled my thoughts. With a strong body and a vibrant personality, the choices seemed endless. Adult milestones—career, marriage, parenthood—were my guiding stars, fueling my actions and decisions. I could always alter course, pivot, or adapt; the power to change was always within my reach.
Humor was my companion, letting me see the world in a lighter shade. I could chuckle at life’s inconsistencies because I was constantly observing, adapting, and living fully. My physical abilities empowered me to engage with the world in a tactile, intimate way.
But as years ticked by, those milestones were crossed off, one by one. Each mark on the checklist came with a growing sense of loss. I noticed my abilities waning, friends moving on, and relationships changing. This triggered a seismic shift in my self-perception. I started to wonder, why even bother? The sense of impending physical decline felt like a tightening noose, pulling me into an emotional abyss.
I found myself in treacherous waters, with my vitality ebbing away. I had to lean on my mind to find reasons to persist, to live in a body that felt increasingly unfamiliar. I had to discredit the mirrors and honor the me I know at a deeper level, allowing my mind to take over where my body could no longer tread.
Now, I value every sunrise as if it’s a new lease on life, and I embrace the wisdom that years have bestowed upon me. I strive to live each day savoring what’s available, focusing on what is rather than what used to be. This isn’t the time for my years to go fallow, entrapped in a longing for the past. The present moment still has much to offer; it’s all about what I have now.
So, I take stock, not just of what I can do but also of what I want to do. I aim for manageable joys, savoring the life that’s still unfolding. I cast away the burdens of negativity, choosing instead the light of the present moment. I’ve realigned my goals to sustain my body and mind in a manner that brings peace and yes, even joy.
Moderating expectations isn’t about settling for less but reshaping desires to match reality. I strive not to grieve for who I was; rather, I nurture who I’ve become. I’m thankful for the things I can still do and try not to dwell on the things I can’t. While I stay aware of worldly events, I don’t let them consume me.
Life can indeed be good in an older body. It’s a different chapter, no doubt, but it’s a chapter still worth reading, a story still worth telling.
-Janice Konstantinidis
jkon50blog 