Summer’s end

On a late August morning just before sunrise only a few people dot the beach.  The sand belongs to the seabirds, a fisherman and yesterday’s footprints.  Except for the pounding of waves, there’s no sound.

In the still, quiet snapshot of that half-light before dawn, I surrender to the sweet sadness of summer’s end.

I am powerless to hold this moment.  In seconds it’s a memory.  Try as I might to hold it, to scream  Stop, stop please, let me hold this time, this near-sacred right-now instant when my family is near and  safe, healthy and whole, it slips away like the sand between my toes.

I am powerless to will the moment, to stem the seasons.

That’s when the message of the first step of Al-Anon and AA resounds.  I am as powerless over this moment as I am a loved one’s addiction.  With the first step the tone is set, the foundation laid.  I cannot control his or her drinking, no more than I can control holding this time together with those I love.

Change of seasons, especially this one, reminds me of how little I can control.  More than any other, this season belongs to family.  It’s  when we are together for the longest stretch, a concentration of days strung together like paper dolls, when I can see their faces, kiss sun-kissed foreheads, marvel at my children in their adulthoods, and respect their lives so well-lived separate and apart from their mother, in spite of her, because of her, totally unrelated to her

Here’s what I can do:  I can savor this moment.  I can surrender to summer’s end and move on.

Autumn awaits.