This month I intend to blog daily as part of the NaBloPoMo ’13 challenge. 

Every once in a while rainbows appear in the hallway in our house. They sparkle on the floor or the wall and linger for a few minutes and then disappear. I’ve tried to figure out where they come from. The bathroom window is the only source of natural light for the hallway. There is a mirror and the usual bathroom stuff. The rainbows appear on mostly sunny days but not always. From where the light is refracted and projected through mist or rain is a mystery. The hallway contains two closets of moderate use, but mostly serves as a means for moving in between more important rooms. I rush through the hallway until the rainbows make me pause, and I say, hmmm.

There are rainbows in the hallway.

No matter the moment, the shimmering bands of color always make me a tiny bit happier than I was the moment before.

Autumn blushes with color while its leaves whisper to one another about our past as they fall to the earth. Although its charm is recognized by leaf-peepers and back-to-schoolers, the season just doesn’t have Winter’s distinctive claim to snow or Summer’s impressive sunsets or Spring’s dramatic process of renewal and rebirth. Autumn feels natural, like I’m coming home. The heat is tempered and the wind has picked up. Local farms are overgrown with pumpkins, some of them oozing as they decompose.

The season is popular with pumpkin, but it also represents a transition into a world bare of life, limited light and faraway thoughts of Summer’s slip-and-slides, sultry nights and sweet silken days.  The past month was spectacular in its light and dryness and color.

Winter still felt far away.

Last month my boys and I diligently tromped through fields of pumpkin in search of the finest, roundest, orangey-est vegetable to bring home. We met the season gently, reminiscing about summertime and its long, sweet days. Colored, drifting leaves and new backpacks made the transition from summer into fall easier on all of us as we moved further away from the sun.

Today we enter late Autumn, and thoughts of holidays and colored lights and snow have emerged from deep within my mind where they slept for the past ten months. Within hours from now it will grow very dark, very early, and I will have to work even harder to rise early and initiate new days with my bedheaded boys who sleepwalk into the dining room for breakfast most mornings.

What a gift this season of transition has been, and what a challenge. I have seen a loved one pass from life into death, surrounded by tears of love and warm hands and strong spirits. I have been reminded to practice the wellness that I preach – in a real and untimely and pretty sucky way, with coughing and fatigue and pain. Observing others who suffer far more than me, I learned to make change – albeit, small change – and accept change that I did not welcome or want. I ceased to make promises that I couldn’t keep – if only to myself. I wondered about what the next season would bring, and I began to think about new ways in which to seek wellness of spirit and body.

For the first time in a long time, I’m keeping a notebook in my purse to jot down thoughts and ideas that may turn into something more. I have done a lot of nothing in my efforts to keep my head above water over the past few months. I’m trying to enjoy these days that seem so long yet go by so fast. I have slept more. I have seen three doctors and had a miserable medical appointment at the hospital that revealed nothing. I am done with not feeling well.

This season brought change, and change isn’t easy. But I look forward to twinkling lights and warmer blankets, new books to read and soups to simmer. May we all go easy into the next season. Beneath a slanted winter light, my heart will be warm on cold winter afternoons, my mind still as the rain moves in and I move within it, beneath it, through it, raindrops texturing my hair as I look up to greet the cool, mean rains of winter. The rains will bring change, too, but before they do I will spend the rest of the season taking in the changing colors, autumnal light and the rainbows that grace my hallway from time to time.

redtree

Rainbows in the Hallway

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4 thoughts on “Rainbows in the Hallway

  1. caroness1 says:

    What a beautiful piece of prose to match the rainbows in your hallway. Bravo!

  2. Marcy says:

    This is beautiful with so much rich, warm description. Maybe the notebook in your purse is paying off? I have always wanted to establish that habit, but it hasn’t ever become a routine for me.

    • skpadilla says:

      Thank you! The notebook is not as inspiring as crumbled pits of paper, receipts, napkins… the stuff I used and still do occasionally scribble thoughts on. I also text myself 🙂

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