life of a georgia Artist

 This is normally my favorite time of year. I drive north till I find color, so about an hour and a half or two. This is the season of light, brightness, and color, yet I feel down. My mom died in November and I feel the season will, going forward, weigh heavy on me. I feel the joy of my favorite season is gone. She would hate that for me. She would want me to enjoy life, but the grief anchors me to the shore. I can see out over the metaphorical harbor and the fear keeps me from moving. I love the colors of fall. Although I live in Georgia now, the colors truly put on a show growing up in New Jersey, and I love traveling there in the fall. The yellows are predominant down here. There are some red and orange, but not a lot. The light though does not disappoint. It is so beautiful and soft falling through the trees. It shines down on me and reminds me of my mother. She shone so bright when she was alive. When the sun shines down, I imagine it is her shining down on me.  The color show in