Summer's Finish Line

My niece and I were walking in spring and she wondered,

“Why is it that in April, I wish it was October, and in October, I wish it was April?”

 Why is it that some of us often wish for what is yet to come? Mentally preparing for the next season? Ready to trade in tank tops and flip flops, for moto boots and turtle necks. While others dig their heels in and try to hold back time, don their Bermudas until Thanksgiving, and dread the inevitable?

 The summer leaves begin to look tired and we dream of the smell of wood smoke on fall evenings. The rush for the beach becomes quiet time with a book. We dust off the slow cooker for soups and stews and overnight oats. We air out our sweaters, put away the lawn furniture and welcome the early end to each day.

 The hum of the air conditioner silenced, the windows open to the sounds of birds singing, wind blowing, and passing showers. Each season has its magic. Each day possibility.

 I haven’t left Long Island in nearly a year and a half, yet the anticipation of the change of seasons feels like an outing, a change of scenery, a new chapter in a novel yet to be written. It is said that there is no greater journey than the journey within-no need for passports or long lines at the TSA, no unruly passengers, long term parking or check out times. 

 The journey within hosts a fantastic banquet-with stacks of books yet to read, music to listen to, recipe books brimming with new ideas, empty journals, hikes in the woods, and afternoon siestas. It is not sad or lonely or dark-there is light-a spark- within each simple exploration.

 I am not rushing to reach the finish line of summer-I will enjoy each warm, barefoot day-I continue a daily practice of living right where my feet are.  But as the current world seems to allow for so little movement, I look forward to the changing seasons like I would a vacation. So I’ve booked my ticket for ‘fall’ and I’ll be leaving around the middle of September.