Its Own Kind of Beauty

On the way in to work I took the long way. I prefer to use Kelly Drive in part because I hate Broad Street, and also because I love and need the scenic route. The water. The trees. The green all around. The ducks. Taking the Drive and drinking in the scenery helps me, if for just a moment, to center and calm myself. So I took the drive, but things were different this morning. Many of the once vibrant leaves have fallen and have begun to decay. Bare and gnarled limbs of trees now stand hauntingly pronounced against the rocks and skyline. The graying fog blanketed the road and hovered over the water. And there were no ducks, not a one. For a moment I was sad. Sad that fall is passing. Sad that the beauty that I look forward to and long for was already disappearing. Sad that lately (call it the ongoing throes of a protracted mid-life crisis or the disturbing strength and determination of post 40 PMS) it has felt like the beauty that I saw all around and in me seems to be fading as well. I know. Seasons. These things are about seasons. But my bounce-back-come-to-myself moments don’t seem as bouncy as they use to be and so seasons or not, the graying, leave-less, duck-less drive was a disappointment. And then it happened. I saw something I hadn’t in the moments before. It was as if heaven injected a pinkish tint into the whole picture. The morning wasn’t as gray as I had initially thought and all of a sudden there seemed to be a sign of joy. The season hadn’t changed. The fall was still passing. Winter is still on the way. Even if I see the ducks tomorrow, they would indeed be leaving for warmer waters soon. But this morning… this season had its own kind beauty. In the midst of dying leaves, gnarled trees, and graying waters, my surroundings showed me there was still something in it to commend itself to me… a unique seasonally appropriate beauty. In an instant the commute got better. And for that moment, so I did I. There is beauty in me. And though I am still struggling to understand all of what that means in the context of my life, I am more convinced that it is still true… seasons changing and all. This season of my life has its own kind of beauty. I suppose I’ll stop, if just for right now, roll down the window and breathe in the morning joy. I suppose, if just for this moment, I will stop the lament of decaying leaves and appreciate the strength of trees that have withstood winter seasons and torrential downpours in spring and summer and have bloomed beautifully time and time again. I guess if just for this moment, I will discern the pinkish tint, the sign of new life, in my cheeks and smile and remind myself that no matter what this day holds, no matter what this season turns out to really be, it has/I have my own kind of beauty.