from the publisher
There’s a strange little stretch of time at the end of summer when the calendar — and the temperature — insists it’s still summer, but the universe starts dropping hints that change is coming.
That change, however, is particularly slow here on our coast. That doesn’t keep us, though, from dreaming of cool mornings and softer light. Somewhere, someone is ordering a pumpkin-spice something, and we all collectively pretend to be annoyed while secretly wondering if it’s too early to buy a sweater.
It’s the season of almost.
Almost fall. Almost a different wardrobe. Almost a new routine. Almost ready.
And maybe that’s why this time of year feels so familiar. We’ve all lived through transitions that didn’t happen with a neat little snap of the fingers. Some changes arrive slowly, dragging their feet and making us wonder, “Are we there yet?” Others feel more like being shoved off a cliff while someone yells, “Good luck!”
Neither is particularly comfortable.
Think about the other transitions we’ve all survived: graduating, changing jobs, moving, becoming a parent, ending a relationship, starting over, watching our kids grow up or realizing we’re growing into someone we didn’t expect to become. Even the good changes can hurt. There can be grief tucked inside excitement, uncertainty hiding beneath possibility.
That’s the annoying thing about transformation: It rarely asks whether we’re ready.
But look at nature. Summer doesn’t become fall overnight. The leaves don’t wake up one morning and announce, “Well, ladies, time for a complete rebrand!” There’s a gradual shift. A little less daylight. A cooler breeze. A few leaves changing before the rest get the memo.
Maybe we’re allowed the same grace.
We don’t have to have the next chapter completely figured out before the current one ends. We can be sad about what’s leaving and curious about what’s coming. We can miss the long summer evenings while still looking forward to crisp mornings. We can acknowledge that something is uncomfortable without deciding the discomfort means we made the wrong choice.
Because sometimes the uncomfortable in-between is where the good stuff starts.
Transitions can be slow and they can be messy. They can make us question our judgment and eat an unreasonable amount of snacks.
But they can also make room.
So as summer slips away, maybe we don’t need to cling to it. Maybe we can let the season change at its own pace — and trust ourselves to do the same.
After all, fall has never needed our permission to arrive.
And neither does the next good thing.
— Kelly MacLeod
