August thoughts

“August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.”
— Sylvia Plath

I’m sitting in my favorite place in our apartment. There are large trees outside with their branches so close I could reach out and touch them. I can see from here that a few leaves are beginning to change color. The air is cooler now and I have a soft blanket on my lap. It feels cozy being up here, perched on the top of the trees. It’s evening now and the rain has started. The pavement is wet and the leaves flutter under the weight of raindrops. I’ve left the windows open slightly. The smell in the air feels like home.

Another summer is coming to an end. I’ve never been good at saying goodbye to summer, but I’m learning how to let it go gracefully. This time of year always stirs something in me. As a teen I felt a profound sense of loss when summer ended. It anguished me watching my favorite season slip away into a ruthless and unforgiving winter. The ‘Back to School’ ads made my heart sink. The chill in the air made me angry. It always felt too short, there was so much more I wanted to do. Why did summer always have to end so soon? I never really acknowledged transition seasons like autumn or spring. All I saw was summer and winter. Good and bad. A time for living, and a time for enduring.

However, the older I get the more I see beauty in transition seasons. I even look forward to them. How beautiful it is to witness those periods of life when the earth vulnerably shares its transformation process with us. In autumn when it sheds its leaves and becomes bare, retracting itself for a period of rest and stillness. Or in spring when it begins to awaken and bloom, revealing all that it learned in the darkness of winter. In my 36 years of being alive, I’ve finally come to understand that the end of summer is not the end of my life. Summer will return, as it always does. Every season has its turn, and each have their own special qualities and experiences that accompany it. Especially in Canada when every season is so distinct compared to Australia. Autumn may signal the end of summer, but it is often the most ideal temperature with all the leaves putting on a dazzling display of color. It’s a beautiful time of year to be here. (So beautiful in fact that it inspired me to write a children’s book about it.) But it’s still a painful time of year for me. Autumn is the season my sister died. I am still trying to come to peace with all that’s happened. But the trees and that specific smell in the air all bring me back to those early days of grief. My heart feels very fragile at this time of year, so I’m trying my best to hold myself gently through it.

I’m also managing my own anxieties and doubts around my eldest daughter starting at a new preschool next month. She recently finished her time at a wonderful family daycare which she attended twice a week. I had tears in my eyes when I went to pick her up from there for the very last time. It’s been second nature going there the past 6 or so months. She’s absolutely loved it. And now it’s over. I felt a sting for the end of a chapter, for my daughter growing up, and for life changing yet again. I remember how stressful it was for me as a little girl to change schools and start again. But I must be mindful of the way I handle my doubts and anxieties now. The things I say are now being understood by my daughter. I need to be more vigilant about the worries I share openly with my husband, and for the first time, I need to save some conversations for after she’s gone to bed. She is listening to my words, but also, more importantly, absorbing my moods. Ultimately, I feel this new preschool is the right decision for our whole family, but I am also reminding myself that if things don’t feel right, we can always change course.

Life is more complicated with kids, as everyone told me it would be. But everything is different when it you finally experienced for yourself. Life is a lot harder with two young people needing me so much. But it is also deeper and richer than it was before. It’s made me less selfish and less self-absorbed. I’ve learned to get on with things quicker than I once did. I rarely have time to dwell anymore. Any idle moment is quickly replaced by a little voice demanding a snack. Sometimes this is good, and sometimes I’d like a little more me time. But either way, everything has its own time and season. A time for summer, a time for winter. A time for raising young children, and a time for witnessing them grow into mature, fully functional adults. In between that are the ordinary moments of day to day life. Our very own transition seasons.

I’ve come to understand that all you can really do in life is to let it happen. There is no need to fight every little thing that doesn’t go my way. I may not like winter, but I can accept that it’s coming. What other choice do I have, anyway? I can’t control the weather. I can’t stop the seasons from changing. But I can allow it to be what it is.

This will be my first full Canadian winter in over a decade. It will be my first one as a mother of two young children. We will finally have a cold, traditional Christmas. It’ll be the first time in my life that I’m walking distance to most of my family and extended family. There are many special moments coming. I’ll just have to gear myself with a warm jacket and waterproof boots.