On a crumbling, narrow road, thirty-two houses sit on either side of a gravel-ditched apron. My home is one of the few remaining cottages built in 1947 for wealthy folks to escape the city to the north suburbs. A patchwork of gray-blue clouds pulls like taffy across the eastern sky. The earth, browned and parched, carries unseasonably warm breezes for this time of year, along with a sense of uncertainty. The mood, seen wide through the large picture window, signals transition as the natural world prepares for sleep.
There’s change going on . . . or is it a transition? We not only can see and hear it, but also we can feel it. We can see the change in the landscape colors, and hear it in the chillier winds and the silence in the skies. Daylight hours are fewer; the sun is lower. Fall is here.
Change versus transition
Change and transition are not the same. They can feel different. Change is an event, such as moving from one year to the next. It can make us feel uneasy. We want things to stay the same, yet sometimes want the monotony of it to change. We fight for what things should be yet want something new. Heraclitus, a Pre-Socratic philosopher, claimed the phrase, Panta Rhei (”life is flux”). He recognized the essence of life as change. Nothing in life is permanent, it can’t be, because the very nature of existence is change. In his view, change is life itself.
And then there’s the transition. That’s the process that affects us physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Some transformation happens. We transition from living life as a single person to one where we have a partnered life, for example.
Staring out the window, I remember a time when the homeowner’s association brought neighbors together. We met in a neighbor’s home where the kids would pop in and out of living rooms, and our discussions, or the dog would plop in the middle of our circle as we snacked on Cheddar cheese and Ritz crackers, sipped Chianti, and talked about maintaining our road. We co-mingled the business talk with social chats of catching up with friends. It went beyond an association to extensions of neighborly acts of kindness where loose dogs were corralled back to their fenced-in yards and wayward kids back to their homes. Depending on the season, kids in the neighborhood would knock on your door with either a leaf rake or snow shovel in hand, volunteering to help while looking to earn money.
The association no longer exists now and hasn’t for many years. The neighborhood transitioned; the road and its occupants have lost a sense of neighborhood, which, after all, is about interaction and community.
Change is a necessary evolution.
The houses plotted on the road of thirty-two have changed from small cottages nestled on big lots to larger homes spilling onto their lot’s boundaries. Those ageing families have moved out and have been replaced by young couples growing their families. And the once often remarked road as a “little country lane” by a long-standing neighbor who doesn’t want a thing about it to change despite its failed condition calling for repair, is neither much of a road nor a lane. This shift in perception can lead to a more subtle understanding of change, recognizing it as a natural part of life that can bring challenges and opportunities.
Transitions shape growth and resilience. What once may have felt daunting may now feel like a necessary evolution.
Searching for a note of optimism, despite my lingering song of change and transition, I find it in the words of Robert Frost:
“In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.”
There’s a bit of a sense of loss in the passing of time, of how the private road, its houses and its occupants are now old. But I think it to be a matter of perspective. And now, as fall reflects her transition, I will remember the words of a philosopher that change is life itself, and words from a poet that it goes on, even in my neighborhood.
“And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full of trees and changing leaves.” –Virginia Woolf.
Barnes and Noble Fall Book Tour Wrap-Up
Just In!
NEW REVIEWS The Wisdom of the Willow
ONLINE BOOK CLUB – 5 OUT OF 5 STARS “Readers who are drawn to an exhilarating family novel that shows resilience, growth, and reflections with a backdrop of deep connection to the natural world would enjoy this story.”
AMAZON REVIEWER – “Chadwick also has a natural gift for dialog combined with telling details.”
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BOOK HIGHLIGHTS
UNDER THE BIRCH TREE is where you’ll find inspiration for finding your connections to home. “A debut memoir about a woman’s three-decade search for connection and self-assurance… Chadwick brings numerous anecdotes to life with vivid dialogue and details of settings and characters.” ―Kirkus Reviews
THE WISDOM OF THE WILLOW is included in the “Most Anticipated Chicago Books of 2024” by the Chicago Review of Books and is for a sister or a mom to daughters who faces decisions that shape your lives, and the challenges when seeking your places in the world.
MERCY TOWN – COMING IN 2025 – . . . a divided rural town in far north Wisconsin, an accidental shooting by a Native American, and the value of mercy and the power of forgiveness. Subscribe to this blog to learn more.
“Autumn light is the loveliest light there is. Soft, forgiving, it makes all the world a brightened dream.” – Margaret Renkl, The Comfort of Crows: A Backyard Year
when some things just want to hang on a little while longer
On this Thanksgiving. . .
Gratitude is not only the greatest of virtues, but the parent of all others.
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