It's the changing of the season, Pixies.... To many of you, it means leaves in glorious colors, the harvesting of nature's bounty, and cooler weather.
Here in the tropics, however, fall means a gradual shift from "heat that melts asphalt" to merely "blazing hot weather with intermittent rain." We have more pine trees and palm trees than oaks and maples, so we're mostly gypped on the leaves, too.
To me personally, fall means that I turn another year older. Most of the time, this is a Good Thing. I mean, every day you're not six feet under is one for the win column, right? Except the older I get, the more the number seems to mess with my head. When I turned 30, I was depressed for a few days, all hung up on what I thought I should have accomplished by that milestone age. Now, at almost-38, I find myself very anxious at the thought that 40 is looming ever closer...out there, waiting for me. I know it's all in my head. I have LOTS to be thankful for: a great family, a daughter that I've managed not to kill due her angsty tween goth attitude, a job that I love, friends who are great, and my hobbies, which make me happy. So, why am I so hung up on a number?
Maybe because with age, I can fully appreciate that there is an end out there. That life is finite, and one day, it will end. And I don't want it to. I don't know exactly why I'm stressing, but I think I need to hear someone else's whines to fully appreciate that I'm cracked in the head for worrying about mere statistics.
So, pixies, if you think of me on Wednesday, at 7:21 am, think happy thoughts, and wish me less number-obsession. To all of you, may you enjoy your fall day, and may it bring you bounteous rewards!