August and forever

Ed. note: I originally published this post on a previous iteration of my blog in August 2014. Thought this would be a fun throwback. 

“The first week of August hangs at the very top of summer, the top of the live-long year, like the highest seat of a Ferris wheel when it pauses in its turning. The weeks that come before are only a climb from balmy spring, and those that follow a drop to the chill of autumn, but the first week of August is motionless, and hot. It is curiously silent, too, with blank white dawns and glaring noons, and sunsets smeared with too much color.” – Natalie Babbitt, Tuck Everlasting

Something clicked last Friday. Something changed so swiftly that I suddenly became aware of the length of days, which have gradually become shorter since June. A minor cold front reminded me one morning that fall will be right around the corner before I know it. Afternoon thunderstorms no longer demand our attention; instead, skies once occupied by the weight of rain that has yet to fall and sudden flashes of lightning and sound are now hazy and indifferent. Tourists seem to have vanished from our streets. And I’m left here, feeling a bit melancholy now that my favorite part of the year has passed and the next two months become a drawn-out waiting game for fall to begin.

Of course, there are perks to August, too. The quiet that pervades has given me space to think, space to feel stillness and accept it. Along with the cooler temperatures of September and October (let’s be real, it’s mostly October I’m talking about here) comes my busy season at work. Now feels like the time to prepare, to rest, to fortify my mind and body for the onslaught of what’s to come.

Today I enjoyed a leisurely lunch with some friends, fellow marketers at other area law firms. We scored the best seat in the house at Domenica, a perennial favorite of mine, and enjoyed great conversation and the thin, lightly charred pizzas from the restaurant’s wood-fired stove.

I don’t normally read horoscopes or take them seriously, but I recently caught these lines from a post on one of my favorite websites, The Hairpin, with some words that spoke to me (Aries). I can’t stop thinking about this passage:

You can lay down in the dark field of all your questions: who you’re supposed to be, what time is made of. Under countless winking stars, you might not get the answers you want, but you will get the ones you need.

On the walk back to my office, I stopped at Merchant, a quiet café tucked away among banks and offices and new residences in the CBD. Iced Americano and cream sweating in my hand, I walked up Carondelet and felt the sun on my shoulders. I thought about those difficult questions in my life that I don’t know—can’t know—how to answer and where the changing seasons might take me. Please, please, let this year be different than the last one. Please let fall be kind. 

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