This is the way it is

It's been raining. The sky is a sodden grey, the leaves heavy and damp have been falling thickly from trees, cluttering sidewalks and collecting on the hoods of cars. The air is full with moisture and smoke-like fog.
It makes me feel quiet and contemplative and a bit sealed off from the world.
I drove to work this morning, hair still damp from my shower, coffee in hand, and thought about how much more complicated life becomes when you grow up.
Suddenly there are tricky relationships to navigate, big decisions to make and lists of responsibilities. Instead of being taken care of, the full burden of care is on my shoulders.
I bring home the bacon and kiss scrapes and do the laundry and clean the gutters and pay the mortgage.
Some days I feel like Atlas with this impossible load on my back. Other days I feel like superwoman, able to leap tall buildings with ease.
I'm getting used to this. Used to my routines and responsibilities. Used to my own expectations.
Sometimes I'm afraid that I'm so used to it that I won't want it to change.