As the days grow shorter and temperatures colder, it is time to welcome autumn, and indeed, what should be a small new lease of life.
There is nothing more comforting and relaxing than seeing daylight fade early in the evening. Darkness captures me, telling me that time has come to cuddle up on the couch, book in hand, comfy blanket to warm my feet and a hot cup of tea to warm my hands. Candlelight shadows perform magic dances on the wall, and I slowly feel energy being restored inside my body.
My Doc boots have been standing idle in a corner of my bedroom, waiting to be walked in again. My winter coat never left the clothes rail in the hallway, covered by a light canvas to keep it from fading. Soon it will feel rain again, and wind will howl a slow, piercing sound through it.
I long for autumn since the first few warm days. I long to walk in Phoenix Park, kicking up fallen leaves that have been building up under large oak trees. The changing of colours in nature is invigorating, it serves as a token that life goes on, that seasons come and go, each year bringing new fragrances and new stories waiting to unfold.
It is with certain sadness that I feel my own reinvention slowed down by unexpected news. The balance between do and don’t is just a small one, between being without pain for a few hours and finding out that old aches return as soon as I reach for higher goals. Life with a degenerative illness like MS occasionally is like a storybook without a story, the framework is there, the content somewhat missing.
Adding images and a storyline takes time, often longer than I would like. Life is lived the slow way, but is lived either way. I may not like the slow change of seasons in mine, but I love the notion that come what may, even that will change for the better.
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