Autumn Cleaning and Lights in the Dark

Autumn has fallen upon us and I’m feeling far more melancholy about it than I usually do. Most Octobers, I am excited. Excited for the return to cozy evenings and delicious foods. Excited to see friends after adventurous summers and hectic Septembers. Excited to dive back into work, all the transitions and travels behind us.

But this year, I wanted summer to go on. I wasn’t ready to start up the routines again. Something about this year was too adventurous, with all of us going in separate directions. There weren’t enough lazy days. Not enough afternoons at the lake, not enough mornings spent lingering over breakfast. And now, we’re all praying for rain to end smoke season.

The changing of the seasons has always been a place of grounding for me. Even as I child, I would take stock of what I had done and what I wanted for the season laid out before me. And so, I suppose, despite my desire for summer to continue, I need to figure out what autumn has to offer me this year, at this stage of my life.

In every year, autumn promises to gently move us into darkness and hopefully contemplation. It ends with festivals of light and, almost immediately, a new year with new promise. It is an outward representation of the reality that we must let go of old things before the new can come.

At this stage of life, I find myself letting go of a lot of old things. We recently cleaned out our garage and ruthlessly got rid of a decade of toys, booster seats, kid-sized life jackets and kayaks, and a million little socks and coats and rain boots. It was time. My kids are nearly full-grown now, with feet larger than mine. We need room for the new things – the hobbies that Forrest and I now have time to pursue. As I tossed yet another box of stuffed animals into the charity bin, I felt a pang. There was a moment in time when these seemed like the most important items in the world. And now? They’re off to be sold for a few dollars.

It makes me wonder. What are the things that seem so important to me right now, that in a decade, I will discard with a mere moment’s thought? Not just possessions, but routines, relationships, aspirations. The tasks between here and there seem so large: launching our children into the world, navigating emerging health issues, and figuring out what to do with the rest of my life.

But the tasks ten years ago seemed pretty big, too. And I had no way then to know how we would manage. You could say I was in the dark. But there were little lights along the way, guides that came in the form of friends and books, and even the occasional Instagram post.

Yesterday, I ran into an acquaintance I hadn’t seen in a few years. She’s a few steps further along on this path. I mentioned I’d be reaching out to her in a few years, when I’m ready to pick her brain on how to help my medically complicated children in their transition to college. So there’s another little light, I suppose, waiting to help me when I need it.

I’ll admit it. I miss summer. The seasons changed too fast for me. I miss slow days and going with the flow. But I wouldn’t stay there for the world. There’s too much up ahead. Even if I can’t quite see what it is yet.