Lots of people like fall, and for lots of reasons. The summer heat fades, cool breezes show up, the leaves on trees turn all kinds of colors, and the holiday season is coming.
For me, fall is aptly named. It’s when I fall off the psychological cliff. Like some cartoon character that runs so fast off the edge of that cliff he doesn’t even know the ground is gone, and forward moment carries him along for a while. Until he realizes the ground has gone away, and holds up that little sign that says, “Oops…” as gravity finally catches up with him, and returns him to the ground that’s somewhere under the clouds, down there.
I’ve lived through that fall enough times that I recognize when the ground goes away. One night, when I’m still on solid ground, I go to bed. The next morning when I wake, the ground is gone, and I know when my momentum runs out, I will fall.
Like the leaves on the trees change from green to yellow, brown, pink, red, gold, and all the shades between. When they change colors, they will fall off the tree. The wind may catch them for a time, and blow them along. But they always end up on the ground.
I know how they feel.
When that fall comes for me, I know all I can do is wait, like the trees, for spring, when the leaves come back, and the ground rises once again, and lifts me up with it.
It’s Week 142 of #SwiftFicFriday, hosted by Katheryn Avila. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #SwiftFicFriday. They are always fun to read. And there are some great writers who show up regularly.