I could feel it in the air, that familiar gentle shift of the seasons stirring, as if the breeze was ushering in the scent of fall ever so slightly.

The wet heaviness of the dew on everything in the garden each morning had that weight to it that I knew would evaporate as the heat of the day drank it in.

Summer, with weeks yet to go on the calendar, was making its slow, steady progression to its natural conclusion, to a September that comes with uncertainty and yet the welcome assurance of a sense of routine.

Change is one of the things I fear most. It’s inevitable. It’s out of my control. For much of my life, I’ve fought change, held on to things so tightly – people, memories, feelings, expectations. Oh, the expectations.

When things were good, I wanted them to stay that way. They didn’t. When things were bad, I wanted reassurance I could get it all back to good again. I couldn’t. I resisted the adage that “nobody said life was fair.” I could make it fair. I could fix it. Balance the scales. I could do that.

But I couldn’t do that. Accepting that truth changed everything. I have learned the best lessons in this life in the hardest ways.

Change is now one of the things I release, albeit not always with grace. Old habits die hard. Yet I know, resistance is futile.

Sometimes I clench my jaw, feel my gut tighten. Then I hear that inner-voice, the one that sounds just like me, except she’s old-soul wise, calm and reassuring, and she’s whispering, “Trust me, we can do this.” And I believe her.

I didn’t always. I’d argue and rationalize until that voice got quiet. And again, I’d learn the hard way. Now I know better. She knows her way around the hard stuff. We’ve danced this dance before. While we can’t choose the changes, we can choose the path through them, her and I.

Now here we are in September and the memories that this month holds for me, for most of us, go off like an alarm clock in my body. The anxiety and excitement of a new school year, new books and clothes, old friends, new friends, fear of having no friends, are embedded in every cellular memory of my being. I’m not even going to school, but I can recall that rush of emotions like it was yesterday.

I feel it now as we’ve said goodbye to our son, heading for his second year of college. He is my grounding soul. For the summer months he returned home, made me laugh, ate most of our food, hid all the dishes in his bedroom, ran up the hydro/water bill and disappeared into the night on weekends. I am going to miss all of that. Love that kid. Love seeing him grow into who he is meant to be.

I feel it now, as my daughter begins her first year of college online and continues to work, learning to balance the two. She is proving to herself she can do anything she puts her mind and spirit to. She will. Her way. Autism is her super power.

Every September comes with lessons. Hold on, but let go at the same time. Anxiety and excitement. Whatever change brings, I listen for that voice to say, “Trust me, we can do this.”

And I do, because we can.

WriteOut of Her Mind