Too cool for school

It's arrived.  I believe that autumn is here, or at least in the neighborhood.  And not a moment too soon to suit me.

I went out for my 7AM walk this morning and it was barely even light.  The air was quite cool, delightfully cool.  The sun was barely skimming the horizon. My walking buddies were in good form.  I am certain that the exercise of walking is secondary to the spirit-lifting laughter and talk as we circle the empty soccer field.

Yoga came next, my first day in class with long pants instead of shorts. My classmates are all 20 or 30 years older than I.  We each bring our own strengths and limitations to the circle.  Creaky hips, sore shoulders, stiff fingers, and low energy are offset by strong thighs, firm stance, inside jokes and foreign tongues.  And laughter.  There is plenty of gentle teasing and shared recognition; if nothing else, we all can breathe.

At times, these days, I feel lost in a sea of other people's needs and pain.  It's a helpless feeling that leaves me wondering what I can do, how I can help, even when I know I'm consigned to the sidelines.  I can offer a hand, drive the car, listen and smile, but there's nothing, not one damn thing, that I can fix. My mother's  Alzheimers will claim its own and the inexorable progression can only be observed. As for the other, my own sweet Jill, I can offer tidbits to tempt her appetite, I can go to appointments and take the notes, keep the calendar, remember directions.  I can offer the backrub or the cold drink or a listening ear, but none of it touches the pain or the misery that is hers alone.

Maybe it's left over from being a Mommy.  Kiss the booboo, hug him tight, calm the fears, dry her tears.  I know how to be the mom and take care of day-to-day problems of childhood.  Perhaps it inflated my ego, made me think I'm more powerful than I am.  Now, when my power is limited to band-aids on gaping wounds, I feel ineffective.

Uncertainty is unsettling.  The cool winds of autumn lift the leaves and part the clouds.  It won't be long till the days are short and the nights are cold, till snow swirls in the lamplight and icy roadways counsel the cars to stay home. Will the wind howl in the chimney?  Will the wolf howl at the door?