By Holly Fink
September for me exists in this liminal space of longing for what has passed while simultaneously anticipating what is to come. As I reflect on this feeling of longing, I remember the relief of the cool river water on my skin as I dive into the freedom of extended summer days. I think about flowy summer dresses and fruit flavored cocktails. I reminisce about a full picnic table in the Blue Ridge mountains packed shoulder to shoulder with friends from different places sharing a meal and many stories. I long for the ease and peace, the spontaneity and flexibility that comes with summer.
I spent a Saturday, one of the last Saturdays of summer, at a new friend’s house. He was showing us his incredible yard, his meticulously designed and decorated home, and sharing his dinner table with us. He was full of stories of the past. Stories of his life that lead us to being together, sharing a meal on his back porch. As the evening came to a close, he pulled out photographs from his youth. Looking at these images invoked a similar feeling, one of mourning for what has been. I loved seeing these pictures and imagining what my friend may have been like 40 years ago. How he moved through the world as a 25 year old. I felt sad that I would never really know, yet grateful to be in his presence to receive his stories.
I know for many, fall incites a feeling of anticipation. Eagerness for the cooler weather, pumpkin spice and everything nice, and all the dreamy colors of autumn. As I begin to mourn the summer that hasn’t even ended yet, I still long for the romance of fall. It feels challenging for me to find comfort in ambiguous, in-between spaces. The change of season is exciting and hard. As the fall equinox approaches, I am reflecting on the full harvest of the summer. The relationships that grew, the time spent creating art, the books that I was able to read to completion! The fall equinox is the time of the final harvest. Should you choose to join us this Wednesday, I encourage us all to reflect on our own personal harvests of the summer months. Celebrate our bounty, and find space to invite in the season of turning inward.