winter is coming

I can tell that winter is coming to this place.
Late in the evening it is undeniable,
when the only sounds are of the house settling,
the wind blowing,
and my parents stirring in their bed.

Before now, even in quiet times, there was more than such silence.
Someone was coming home,
a telephone rang,
laughter could be heard from somewhere else.

Tonight the hallway is dark;
there are no moving shadows,
only stagnant ones cast by picture frames
outlined by a lone nightlight.

In this house, I sang and danced in my childhood.
The garage was my classroom, stuffed animals my unruly students.
My room was my hangout and years ago,
our backyard was one happening place
complete with swimming pool and diving board.
The living room was my stage
when I pretended to be Debbie Boone, Marie Osmond and Olivia Newton John,
or when I entertained to Perry Como.
The driveway was my ice rink
when I skated on wheels that were destined to become blades;
the hallway was my platform for all things gymnastic.
Our trees outside were my hiding place, no tree house necessary.
The kitchen counters and cabinets
were my domain for discovery and adventure.

Winter isn't here yet.
There is a new baby, a great-grandson.
My nieces and nephews find comfort here,
good food and plenty of laughs.
There isn't complete silence all the time.
But if this house were a tree, the leaves would be turning,
in their place and in their color.
Winter cannot be stopped.

Autumn has been my favorite time of year for most of my life.
I never cared about being out of school for summer;
I loved school!
And spring only meant that the end of school was close.
When I realized that my December birthday fell in fall,
and that I love football,
and that I probably love Thanksgiving more than Christmas,
fall became an especially treasured time of year for me.

With the cold of winter always on its way,
even to this house, the home of my childhood,
I am at peace here in its autumn.
Despite the chill, I can always find warmth.
Along with a sad promise of end comes glorious hope always for new beginnings.
The legacy of love and family will carry on through seasons to come.

Tonight I am warmed by the light of familiar shadows,
smells and sounds.
My children are next to me, cuddled close and content.
Across the hall, I think I hear the familiar deep breaths of my beloved father
and the shifting beneath covers that tells me Mom is still awake.
I am like her in this way... still a night owl, never one to fall asleep too quickly.

But even as sleep comes to me slowly,
I remember that winter is inevitable,
as is its promise for rest and long awaited peace.