Time and Change

Looking out my window at the early morning light it’s all about time and change: The light is bright yet altered by just a shade or two. We’ve tilted a bit. Lower, warmer.

It’s forecast to be in the 80’s today with a thunderstorm or two. Still 21 days left of summer, officially at least, but fall is definitely knocking at the door. The birds know it: they’re starting to flock up, discussing their flight plans. The squirrels know it: talking with their mouths full, scurrying about, diggings holes in lawns, acorns bulging their cheeks all out of proportion. The trees are starting to get the idea as well: perfectly airbrushed highlights in just the slightest, most subtle accents of yellow, just a touch of orange.

It’s really the most beautiful time of year and, at the same time, one of the most thought provoking. It’s all about change, the march of time, another year slipped between my fingers. There’s lots of time left, really, And yet, as the breeze blows in off the lake and massages free the first of the colored leaves from the trees along the street below, it’s undeniable: In these parts at least, all too soon we’ll be shutting down, bundling up, preparing to slow the pace and stay warm—the lucky ones will follow the birds lead and head south.

As for me, I’ll be here watching, working, participating and, in fact, enjoying the fact that I will once again have the incentive to stay inside and CLEAN OUT MY OFFICE!! Now that would be a change.

Drinking It In

Yesterday was one of those delicious summer mornings that begs a person—should he or she be so lucky—to spend an hour blasting along a country road with the top down, hair being blown about, grinning from ear to ear. Fortunately for me, I do have an old convertible and I did need to drive about 30 miles in the course of seeing patients on a Sunday morning. The road wasn't exclusively mine, nor the idea: There was a pretty stout representation of motorcyclists and a few on bicycles as well.

As I drove along I noticed just how perfect a day it was: 72 degrees. Not a cloud in the sky, low humidity, the roadway flanked by fields of corn, 6 feet high, a brilliant green. But every now and then there was a tree, a beautiful green leafed tree in full foliage, giving me a sign. It’s a blush really, just the top of the t-shirt showing from under a dress shirt, but it was undeniable: The leaves on a few of these trees were visibly hinting at a change. A gold cast to the green, a little edging in yellow: the message was clear, it’s getting to be that time. A bit premature on an early August morning but, as we all know too well, nature doesn’t always heed the calendar.

By late afternoon this beautiful day had turned to a hot hazy affair—one of those “lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer.” What had started as a cool and brilliant Sunday morning was finishing out a bit more in command of the season and, again, the trees reflected the time of year with a peculiar golden glow, leaves reflecting the lower angle of the sun. The message was being broadcast a little more clear to any who bothered to pay attention: We're winding down here. It won't be summer forever, Drink it in.

Nature has its way. And in this experience the message was clear: Our days are grand and life is full. And with that, the advice to drink it all in. Everyday moves a person a little further along that road, that calendar, that life. It can be such a gorgeous journey but one needs to pay attention—open arms, open eyes, alert and welcoming. In short: Drive fast, smile big, and keep the top down for as long as nature will allow.

First Day of School

First Day in OR

Remember all those "first day" photos? First day of Kindergarten. First Grade. The ritual kind of peters out after first grade, it seems. It falls to graduation photos-- daycare, kindergarten, high school, college. Last night I wish I'd had the camera at the ready: I went to dinner with my daughter last night because today is her first day of medical school. I won't be there to see her off, to pack her lunch, to give her a hug, a kiss, and a "good luck" wish as she leaves.

It amazes me to think of the ground she's traveled and where she's at today. I started that journey 34 years ago and it's passed in the blink of an eye.  When I look back at the road she's travelled, I realize she has done well. It's me, it's her mom, but mostly, it's her.

Before leaving her last night, I told both Kels and her roommate: pay attention. This is a privilege, an honor, an opportunity most will never have-- and the responsibility that comes with it is even greater. As with every other instruction you give your child-- look both ways before crossing, always fasten their seatbelt, wear a helmet, listen well, moderation-- one can only hope they hear you and remember your words, taking them to heart and understanding your meaning. That said, I wished her good luck and gave her a kiss and a hug goodbye.

My daughter, the doctor.