I’ve often that I think fall should be the New Year, at least by my life’s calendar. For me, this time of year is when everything feels like it has come full circle and we’re on the brink of going around again.
See: Migrations. I used to joke that my family was cursed, because every fall for the past few years there has been something (power outages, sewer leaks…) that drove us out of our house for a couple weeks. But since Patrick and I moved at the end of last fall, the new joke is that I was the cursed one all along. In fact, I don’t think my family did have to migrate last year…
And now this year, Patrick and I have been planning our schedules (as far ahead as we can), it turns out that I won’t be in Denver for much more than a week in October, and who knows about after. Let the migrating begin. (Or… continue, as I haven’t been in Denver much in September, either– not that I’m complaining! Spent a few weeks in Cleveland, a week in Arizona, and a weekend camping in the mountains. Now I’m in Fort Morgan, which is still in Colorado even though it looks just like Nebraska. Crazy how this state is half and half like that.)
See also: Mindset. At the very turn of the season, like lifting the corner of the page… I could feel it, the other day. It was hot and sunny but the breeze had a bite to it. The sunshine looks different (but maybe I’m just crazy– sometimes I think it looks different in different states). Anyway, things are changing, and this makes my mind start gearing up for some kind of “Phase Two”. Like getting home from work and changing your clothes to go out for the night. I find myself making lists, making plans, wanting to focus myself on certain things with an almost studious air. I even do research, which is something I hate. Suddenly I want knowledge, discipline… Wait, this sounds like school. Crap. Okay, I want to hone my self-disciplining, self-teaching skills. All this? Sounds like New Year’s resolutions to me.
Fall, I guess, is a lot different from the New Year, though. Fall isn’t about marking off, “the end of that, the start of this”; it cups you in the time between that and this. At the same time, it stabs right now into your brain and heart. It’s too beautiful and too short, but you know it’s going to come again, around and around.