On Thanksgiving Monday we said goodbye to one old friend and to one elderly aunt. We’ve moved past the stage where the only seniors we knew were our parents and their friends, and an occasional former colleague. Now we and our friends are seniors, even if we don’t quite think of ourselves as elderly.
Some of us seem well on our way to letting go; others are still going strong.
Some seem to have packed up all sensible-like for the coming snows; others are still defiantly blooming.
All are undeniably aging in some respects; many still have vibrant aspects.
As the leaves fall, so will we.
Soon or late. Sitting off to the side somewhere or walking, albeit slowly, along the path. Grieving what is lost or being thankful for what remains and for the people we’ve known.
The leaves don’t get to choose the manner of their fall. Maybe we do.