Something is changing.
It was Saturday morning and I woke up in a two-bedroom apartment that had the pleasure of housing 13 girls over the weekend. I got up and navigated getting ready with 13 pretty faces and one bathroom (four mirrors though—thankfully).
I walked outside barefooted and trotted to my car to find a pair of boots to wear to the farmer’s market, and there it was.
If you’re anything like me, you know what it is but can’t seem to articulate it.
Maybe it’s a feeling or a smell, temperature or a look of things— or none of it or all of it at once. I suppose it’s a little like the feeling I get when I finally see my friend again— the one who’s moved away.
For a wonderful moment, I know I get to experience the feeling of her right in front of me, close enough to touch and laugh with and simply walk next to. It’s fresh and right and so sweet but it also aches because I know at the end of the day she will have to go home again—across state lines.
This is something that I joyfully and achingly experience every end of September and early October.
It is called autumn. Anne of Green Gables said it well, “I’m so glad I live in a world where the are Octobers.”
And for those of you who had the privilege of being born in this month, my sophisticated grandma would be proud to know you.
As she wrote once, “Why would anyone have a birthday any other than October? Poor dears!”
I once read that we would be wise to consider the seasons. The world moves— it ebbs and flows.
This earth shows us silence and shocking sound as well as cloud and explosive color. The seasons have lessons to teach us, the loveliest kinds that only require us looking up.
Winter is coming. That’s what autumn means, right? It’s funny that the leaves never look so beautiful as when they’re about to fall to the ground—to die. It’s like they know they have to leave so they might as well do it in a flame of glory.
This is my senior year; it feels a little like my autumn. I feel the weight of passing moments, knowing that in a short year life will be altogether different.
My best friends won’t, for the most part, live in the same apartment complex as I do and bills won’t be covered by scholarship money.
This time is so beautifully clinging onto the branch, safe here but knowing that in just a moment, the wind will come and take it somewhere else.
I know there’s a big possibility that leaving college and welcoming a new season of life will feel a little like winter—at first.
I’m going to miss waking up to surprise breakfasts with my best friends in our apartment and study sessions until 2 a.m. I’ll miss it because it’s good.
Here is one thing that I’m starting to learn: underneath each winter something is taking place that we can’t see—preparing the barren trees to all be covered up again with brand new life.
Fortunately the seasons come whether we welcome them or not. Unfortunately, there can be disunity in our lives that can stay for many autumns if we do not open up our hands and let go of what is not meant to be ours anymore.
There are some things we cannot keep forever, and that’s okay. For me, that might look like