Just a thought… A fallen leaf is nothing more than a summer’s wave goodbye. [Author Unknown]

As a new season arrives this morning, I’m awash in memories of the summer that was: from the events to the moments, the changes seismic and small. As we get set for the time of year blessed with colours and crispness, come with me as we look in the rearview mirror for a few minutes together, won’t you?

We began summer with a good-bye to my father. Dad lived a full and mostly healthy 92 years and he had the passing most of us would hope for: peacefully and in the care of good people, and in the hearts of his daughters. We know he and Mom are dancing together again and we feel gratitude for having had him as our dad, and Mom’s forever partner. How he’d love what the Jays are doing these days, keeping us joyfully anxious right down to the wire!

In addition to marking six years since rehab, my summer was splashed with plenty of travel (another addiction), including my first yurt experience, shared with my sister Leslie (and my enVy pillow) in Sicamous, BC. It’s honestly my happy place, where I go when I want the fondest memories.

My endeavours on a paddle board were not entirely successful, but next time I’ll choose less wavy waters. Like a kiddie pool or a bath tub. Still, it was ahhhhhh-some.

Boarding pass in hand, I enjoyed a quick baseball-filled trip to Ottawa to watch Colin’s come-from-behind team win a championship! A glorious night and a fun visit with him and Jane and their folks.

But the geographical highlight, and one that has me literally longing to return, was our drive in the EV (uneventful too, thankfully) to Alberta. From the cheapest motels to an upscale glamping experience that definitely did not deliver the vibes I enjoyed at the yurt (lesson learned!) the most peaceful moments were spent just breathing in the beauty. And there was so much to absorb.

Finally, as I told you last week, we’re still holding our breath, but Rob and I finally seem to have sold the beloved house that has been on the market for 16 months. We haven’t decided what to do with the furniture that is still in it, but we take with us the memories – joyful welcomes and tearful goodbyes – that came with our time there. It’s where I wrote Mourning Has Broken, and it’s where we began to grow our BC roots. Those roots are developing by the day and, although the winds blow us east for visits now and then, they continue to strengthen as we open yet another chapter in our post-Toronto lives.

I’m coming to peace with not being as active or in demand as I once was. It’s a tough journey, this one. I’m realizing that enriching and joyful part of my life is mostly coming to a close (except for podcasting sleep stories on Drift with Erin Davis and, of course, weekly episodes with my friend Lisa Brandt on Gracefully and Frankly).

I walk a lot each day, listen to favourite podcasts and stay in touch with people who care to come along, here and in social media. It’s not what I thought life was going to be at this soon-to-be age of 63 (this Friday), but then, when is life ever what we expect?

Have a lovely Autumnal equinox. May you find beauty and peace in the season ahead. We’ll be looking for the same things, you and I.