Savor.

I wore two shirts. two sweaters, and a coat yesterday, watching the leaves wind down their big show.  Playing outside 'til dark means shorter adventures now.  Basketball season is about to begin for us, as is play-inside-and-make-the-house-smell-like-a-gymnasium season.

Time is moving on.

The youngest talks in full paragraphs and helps set the table.  The six- and seven-year-olds buttoned their church shirts without any help today, and our bonafide tween hung out with us last night as everyone younger slept.

Time is moving on.

I tend to think concretely about time's stages:
Spring. Summer.  Autumn.  Winter.

Baby.  Little Kid.  Big Kid.  Teenager.  Adult.  

I keep one eye on the stage leaving and one eye on the stage coming, but I give very little attention to the beauty of the transition.

But the transition is a time to savor.

The air is chilly, but the sun is warm.  We play outside, but we come in for books under afghans.  We rock and snuggle, but we grow in independence.  We rarely get hugs in public, but at home no one wants to miss the bedtime love.

We are in the in-between, and where we are is good.