By: Cia Huston Dreves
As the days shorten and the nights cool, we face the annual task of wardrobe adjustments. Shorts and tank tops are exchanged for jeans and sweaters. I get to pull out my favorite flannels and wistfully wish that my little portion of Florida would occasionally chill enough for my favorite coat and scarf, but, alas, they haven’t been worn for years. Each time I think of donating them, I secretly hope we will experience a once-in-a-lifetime cold snap, so they remain in the back of the closet year after year.
Hope, I’ve discovered, is one of those things that should never be packed away, regardless of the season, even if it means a favorite coat continues to take up space in a crowded closet.
Today I find myself thinking a great deal about the seasons of my life, and I find that “hope” seems to be the antithesis of “worry.” So, I chide myself for the collective eons I spent worrying. As a child I worried that it might rain and I would be restricted to indoor play. As a teen, I worried about grades and the old boyfriend and the new boyfriend. As a mother, I worried about the children. I’ve worried about work when there was work and about work when there was no work. I’ve worried about my weight and my health. I’ve worried about simply continuing after the loss of my parents and recently after the loss of my husband. I’ve worried about the house and the car and the bills. And, if that were not enough, I’ve worried about the same set of things for every single person whom I love.
And although I seem to be a natural-born worrier, I’ve also been one of the most hopeful people I’ve ever known. “How can that be?” I asked myself, and much to my surprise, I came up with my own answer. Worry over a single issue can only consume me for so long before I recognize the utter futility of it. Eventually, I come to the realization that this too shall pass. Circumstances always change. Tomorrow is always a new day. Eventually, I only worry that I am a worrier and hope that I will stop. For a while, it becomes a matter of “out with the old attitude” and “in with the new one.” I make this adjustment several times a year. Perhaps it is a seasonal thing.
As the seasons change this year, I hope to make several adjustments.
Unfortunately, “adjustments” are often decisions, and decisions are not always easily made. Still, I would hope to exchange old habits for new ones, old paths for new ones, old dreams for new ones. I am no longer the person I was in a bygone season. I am no longer a wife, no longer half of the word “we.” It is time for me to discard the old image of my life and build something entirely new.
So, as the clothes and décor of last season are packed away, I’m also packing away the long-held definitions of myself. The thought is a bit intimidating but at the same time exhilarating. Out with the old me. In with the new me. I am not worried. I am hopeful that my decisions will be good ones, and God will direct my path. Who knows? I may even take a trip north—just so I can wear that coat.
Focus on Fabulous magazine contributing writer, Cia Huston Dreves enjoyed a 37 year career in Advertising as artist and writer before retiring. She has also written, directed and produced documentaries, published the How-To book “Find Cash in Your Kitchen” and maintains the blog, “Still Finding Cash” at blogspot.com.