There was a feeling of autumn on this New England summer morning. Early light, filtered, the colors of the fields and flowers beginning to fade, losing the vibrant green of the early season. Crickets echoed in the quiet, a song of the beginning and ending of things. The weather still warm, but with that early morning coolness that is a harbinger of the season to come.
A feeling of melancholy, almost. This summer seemed to speed by, as days and seasons do the more years we have on the planet. As I walked around the building, I realized I hadn’t yet been to the beach, just miles away. Feeling the warmth of the sunshine on skin, as the cool breeze played counterpoint, the pondering went deeper. I thought of things, activities I hadn’t done, choices that I had made. As the years in our lives go by, realizing there was less time to do those bucket list items. Melancholy, to be sure.
As the universe sometimes does, as the day went on, I kept getting “messages” – those discussions, those social media posts that appear, reflecting something that we need to remind us. A discussion at an appointment after my walk reminded me that we all often wander through the world thinking we have all the time in the world to do the things we want to do. A social media post with its’ “Quote of the Day”… “The best thing about growing older is getting clear on what does and doesn’t matter. The only regret is wishing you’d figured it out a whole lot sooner.” We spend a lot of time in our lives dwelling on the past, thinking about the future, and simply forgetting where we are now. Both those messages so clear and true…remembering what matters and remembering to take the time to do what matters.
That beach I spoke of is just a few miles away. As I thought about it more, I realized I hadn’t been there because this summer has been abnormally, unusually hot and the reality of being there wasn’t the same as the idealized fantasy.
I always did like the seashore more in the autumn, anyway.
There is a sadness to the changing of the seasons, but also a joy. Every ending is a new beginning. Later that day, I looked at the photos I had taken on the walk thinking I would see the fading of the flowers, the dimming of the colors in the landscape. What I saw was just a different sort of beauty. What we look for is often what we see.
