There’s something about autumn that feels a lot like motherhood to me. Both come with changes we can’t quite control, both ask us to let go, and both teach us to notice beauty in small, fleeting moments.
When my daughter was younger, autumn meant muddy boots by the door, crisp air at the school gates, and endless reminders to pack extra socks for rainy days. These days, it’s quieter. But I still feel that back-to-school rhythm in the air — the sense of a fresh start, even if my child is grown.
Motherhood in autumn is a call to slow down. The trees don’t cling to their leaves, they let them fall gracefully. It makes me wonder: what am I still holding onto that I could gently release? The pressure to do everything perfectly? The guilt that sneaks in when I take time for myself?
It’s also the season of gathering. Gathering our families indoors, gathering stories around the dinner table, gathering the warmth of blankets and candles as evenings draw in. These small rituals matter — they become the memories our children hold, long after the school years have passed.
So, as autumn begins, I’m giving myself permission to mother differently — with more softness, more patience, and more joy in the little things. A walk through crunchy leaves. A pot of soup simmering on the stove. A moment to breathe in the crisp evening air before heading back inside with my now grown up daughter.
Autumn, like motherhood, involves changing ‘seasons’ i.e the changing face of childhood. But maybe that’s what makes it so precious. 🍁
