Yesterday I came home to find the baby swing that we haven't used in a year boxed up and taken away. When we first put it up in the best corner in our bedroom, it looked clumsy and out of place, but like everything I had grown accustomed to it and it's absence created a hole larger than I remember. My son will be two this winter, and I have no idea how that happened. He isn't sad about seeing the swing go. Before disassembly, he played with it one last time, his toddler feet dangling over the edge and his hands easily reaching up to grab at the little birds on the mobile. When he had enough, my husband started the slow task of taking apart a physical object that we loved for too short of a time. My son always the helper, picked up a screwdriver and started to emulate his dad as usual until the deed was done.

Nothing has changed in my bedroom. From what I can remember that corner was always empty, but now that something has occupied that space for over a year the change seems dramatic. That the swing came and went so fast is a harsh reminder about the passage of time. The seasons do this to us as well. I, with many others, celebrate fall as my favorite season. The colors, pumpkins, holidays, all evoke a particular feeling for me. I have a whole closet of sweaters, decorations I cherish for my house, and almost a different diet. My husband and I eat at different places in the fall and cook different foods at home. We have different chores and different ways we enjoy our time at home. None of this is unique. Humans have danced with nature as a leading partner for thousands of years.

A very dear friend of mine used to say to me all the time, "Bend like the willow, don't break like the oak." He used to tell me a lot of wise things, especially when I didn't want to hear them. We don't see each other much since he changed jobs, but his voice echoes in my head and I hope always will. Isn't it great advice? The best way to react to change is flexibility. Expectations of jobs change, coworkers change, families change, seasons change, markets change, homes change. If we try to remain steadfast against those changes, we will break. Change is constant, and if we're not evolving with it, we are not growing.

Having coffee with my best friend and fellow bibliophile, we discussed how Amazon's stock is trading at almost two thousand dollars, up 51% from January. Barnes and Noble is at $4.16 a share and falling. Now, of course, Amazon is more than just books, but the point is that the market has changed, and I have two options: Bend like the willow or break like the oak.

Change is in the wind, my friends.

Onward!

Kathryn