Constant.

Chilly winds and gray skies are ushering in the new season with pomp and colder temperatures today. Leaf tornadoes are everywhere, and I can feel the shift in my ears and the tip of my nose.

It’s a good day to be going home, to reorient myself in the familiar to gear up for the change. I’m hearing An Affair to Remember play in my head, “Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories.” Indeed, it must.

I talked to someone this week who said that it only seems like change happens as an event. Really, change is constant; we just hang on tight to what we know until we can’t know it anymore. Sounds like we’re all living in denial when we think life isn’t changing and uprooting around us constantly.

I think she’s right, for the most part. Change is always, maybe even a constant if we want to be paradoxical. But not everything is changing all the time. Sure, maybe so many things change at once that it seems nothing is constant, but they take turns.

The leaves are on the ground instead of clinging to branches, and the wind has a harsher feel, but the sidewalks that take me home to my apartment are still flooded with children with backpacks at 3:30, and there’s still a brick wall out my window. And the trains still run all the way to the airport.

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2 thoughts on “Constant.

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