Paths of Change

There was about an hour to go, left of the gorgeous weekend. Well, that I had left to me, myself before my daughters came home from their dads. A September afternoon and the sun was a warm kiss. The temperature was 80 for sure and I was lost again.

I took us to a path we walked back in the beginning of our days, almost 10 years ago. We walked down the trail that embraced us. The colors said welcome. The crunch of leaves were music. The scene was as if the trees were hugging the trail. Change of season is just across the way. I was on this path, but my mind was somewhere else.

The conversation was simple. My hands busy with keys and cell phone. Of course, I stopped for a picture. Of course we walked that bridge. There were three boards new in the with the old.

This cold, I’ve felt before. He had said as we began to walk, “you seem troubled, still.” My body reacted, and I did not make a sound. I couldn’t. I was down. Be it my eyes, shoulders, it was as if I wasn’t even there. My mind kept saying I wanted to vomit. If I could throw up all the words, time & feelings to deal, would I? My favorite line from an old song was, “I’m half alive, but I feel mostly dead.” I was almost there.

Do the seasons feel like such? In between life and change of colors, falling to their nakedness before the cold? There is that vulnerability. When one undresses themselves completely and says, “Hi this is me,” scars and messy hair. I say each morning almost, “I worked hard on this look,” stoned face before the caffeine and hazelnut. I stare at this space just like it is 7am now, yet it’s really just before 10pm.

I recently reconnected with a friend who I met when I wore pig tails and rode my black hand me down bike with daily. We would be outside from 9am until the bats were flying through the dusk sky. We had to have been at least seven. Change of season, adult life and now her story. I admire her honesty so much because it’s shocking. Its truth wanted. It’s chaotic and hard. One of those places you want it to end and ease. She’d say, “I just want it over!” Wanting the choices and change in her face to become calm waters than the rough constant waves. She will not drown. She’ll get it, she’ll walk out of those waters with her head high and power. Can you relate?

This walk simply reminded me that life can truly be discouraging. There is a happier place making and enjoying life moments more. Not rushed, or stuffed with stress. It reminded me that it’s not worth the effort. Oh, and sleep and I should become friends again. It feels I haven’t slept since spring. Summers foolish games.

My walk on that Sunday, I was trying to get normal back, again. At least at this adult thing, I’m not a mess, I’m a pretty mess.

Oh and really, I’m NO mess at all, I’m simply just pretty.

Amy Scott

Born in Atlantic City NJ, and raised in NEPA. Forever a lover of sand and ocean, but would escape to the woods and a cabin. Fan of traveling, small coffee shops, real feels and deep conversations. A girl that will throw the car in reverse to photograph something that catches her eye. Continuing to find herself even at 40. Amy holds the first four year college degree in her family history. A mother of two daughters who come first. Photographer of family and abstract. Writer of life pieces and poetry. Passionate in inspiring others to always find the positive.


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