natalie ak scott
So here’s to endings and beginnings
And so it ends. (And so it begins).
My husband and I moved out of our first “home” together--apartment 528.
It’s got me thinking about endings and beginnings and the often blurred and overlapped lines between them. And that when you do get a sure, non-blurry ending, the certainty is a gift.
Sometimes endings and beginnings are clear and sometimes they’re not. Sometimes they transition from one to the other slowly, like the seasons. Before Fall became Fall there were glimpses of it. I remember seeing it in July. The first few leaves turned yellow, and the leaves started dropping. Slowly slowly she appeared, and now she’s here. And slowly slowly Winter approaches, as the leaves drop and the trees become bare and the first frosts hit.
Sometimes we enter a new beginning and don’t even realize it. We realize, oh, I’m not in that season of life anymore. Or oh, I don’t relate to that friend in the same way I used to. It’s an ending to how things were and a starting to how things are. When it comes to friends, it makes me sad.
It’s got me thinking about home. I’m always thinking about home. And wondering: “will I ever find it?” and more and more realizing that, this side of heaven, no, I won’t.
It’s got me thinking about routines, and how maybe change is hard because it means adjusting my routines--the ways I move through my day.
It’s got me thinking and asking questions and letting that be okay.
So here’s to endings and beginnings and home and routines and thinking and asking questions.
Here’s to noticing.
Here’s to carrying questions without the weight of an answer.