Transition

I think this year's transition from Autumn to Winter has been the most stunningly beautiful changes I have ever been a part of. It was gradual one. A golden one. A crimson one. A chilly one. The warm faded as slowly as the cool came. And silence swallowed the shrills of Summer into the slumber of quiet dormancy brought on by the impending season. The days have been full of gray. Beautiful, deep, warm gray. The air has been brisk, and the thickness of the it has left my face damp as I spent time scuffing the walks and paths home in my red rain boots. Tonight I had to pause and take in the foreboding majesty of the sunset. It was was darkest I have ever seen, only lightly kissed on its undersides with intimations that something warm was there. All is in transition.

I thought about that as I walked home today. Every minute is transitioning to the next, every step to the next, every phase of life, semester, year, decade, era . . . we live in a constant state of transitory change. Flux. Good change and bad change, the slight alterations that take place between the seconds ultimately drive us in diverging directions until eventually we all end up. One.