Things are changing. I can’t put my finger on specifically what it is. But I feel it when I wake up in the morning. I hear it in the rustle of the breeze through the trees. I see it in the color of the leaves.

There’s a pregnant pause. A calm before the storm.

When I was a little girl, my grandmother felt an impending doom whenever her eye twitched. It usually meant someone was going to die. I don’t know how she came up with this. Maybe it actually happened once or twice and confirmed her belief. I don’t really know. However, I do remember how out of sorts she would be whenever it happened. She’d make this clicking noise with her teeth that indicated she was brooding over some concern. She’d talk about her eye and convey her belief that something was going to happen. Admittedly, for years, I worried when my eye twitched too. But my eye twitching never predicted anything out of the ordinary. And yet lately I find myself worrying a lot. I can’t help but wonder if those emotions are some how connected to whatever it was that made my grandmother worry. Could it be that what we were really fretting over was a resistance to letting go of our role as caregiver and nurturer to our children? Am I anxious because I no longer have any semblance of control?

A few days ago while driving home, I was awe struck by the brilliance of green, burgundy red, burnt orange and golden brown through the trees. The beauty of fall overwhelmed me. I marveled at the ease with which trees manifest change.

There’s a time to sprout and blossom. A time to grow and mature. A time to sacrifice and let go. And a time to slow down and rest. No one season is better than the other. Each one is essential to the cycle of life.

Maybe the change I’m feeling is the shift into another stage of life. Perhaps the sense of doom comes from not feeling ready. But I’m encouraged as I glance out my window at the trees in my backyard.

Change isn’t easy.

But I hope that as I move into the next phase of my life it is with as much beauty and grace as the fall leaves.