There is something about the seasons that prompts me to write about them. I have written thoughts about them in the past (seasons of friendship, for example) and I have a feeling there will be more thoughts to come in the future. I am certain that we can all pair an annual season with a phase in our current life.

With the crispness of autumn teasing us (in Florida we keep our swimsuits next to our winter coats), I am more aware of seasons changing. And with my mom gifting us with her time and love and presence in our home for the entire month of November, I am confronted with the speed of passing time. It hurts. I am intent on savoring the little years with our children but I’ve been negligent with the older years of our parents.

It struck me the other day that while our children are in the spring of their lives, our parents are in the autumn of theirs. I’ve been in denial because I want to assume that they will remain the constants they have always been to me. They’ve been the anchors of my existence that I have more than once resented but upon which I counted in every storm. Even as a married woman with five babies of my own I can live with more confidence knowing my parents are there. It’s impossible for me to imagine life any other way.

But autumn is a glorious season filled with vibrant colors, crisp air and cozy nights with fuzzy blankets, warm drinks and long conversations. It’s a time of anticipating the beautiful memories to be made at Christmas and a time to reflect on the passing year and make good on those nearly-forgotten resolutions from January. (In Florida, autumn can almost last into the new year.) And so I pray it will be for this season we are in as a family: spring and summer and autumn linking arms, savoring the moments together, and making memories that will carry us through the chill that will come at some point in our lives.