As the hot air of summer cools to a comfortable breeze, I think about change. The leaves on the trees and blades of grass appear as bright as they did, yesterday, yet something is different. It’s subtle, but prominent. It’s intangible, yet I can feel it. It’s change. It surrounds us.
Sometimes we welcome it. Sometimes we block out the need, but regardless, change is here, waiting for recognition, acceptance and adaptation. Sometimes it’s time to embrace something new.
The turning of the season is also a turning point in my life. As summer dwindles away, I can try to hold on, but it’s leaving, despite my best efforts to make it stay. Just as an old part of me pushes to say “good-bye” and I have trouble letting her go.
I call her The Dreamer. She’s the part of me who says, “I want to be a writer”. She’s dreamt her last dream, fulfilling her last goal.
“There’s nothing left for me to do here,” she says, repeatedly.
I feel like it’s letting go of summer and crushing the sunshine that’s brightened my days, nourished the juicy tomato garden and protected me from anything menacing and cold.
My sinuses sting at the sight of a crisp, brown leaf floating from the sky to rest at my feet. Summer was leaving and so was The Dreamer. I could feel her packing her things.
I have no choice, but to let go of summer and embrace the necessary autumn. It’s silly to drown myself in hopes that summer would stay; I’d miss the leaves changing colors and the smell of pumpkin spice wafting around every corner.
But The Dreamer, I can keep her. “No,” she says. “Let me go. If you don’t, you’ll never grow. My work is done.”
If I kept The Dreamer, I’d miss the beauty and opportunity of all she’s created. I can’t do that to her. She deserved to feel accomplished and reap the rewards that come. I’d be selfish to keep her. She’s ensured my happiness and success and I won’t let fear betray her belief in me.
As always, I accept summer’s end and welcome autumn’s new beginning. Though it hurts and it will hurt for longer that I care for, I’ll stay true to The Dreamer’s hard work.
Each time I look in the past, to grab her hand, she says, “No. I can’t let you in, but know that I love you. Now, go. Make me proud. I didn’t do all this for nothing.”
Like summer turns to fall, this transition from a dreamer of wanting to be an author to being an author is like losing summer forever. I long to feel the sunshine on my face…and I will again, only, I’ll be different. I’ll feel the warm, nourishing protection through the skin of a published author, instead of an aspiring one.
I miss The Dreamer and I cry as she watches me through the window of the past. I kept her courage and strength, for I need it for the adventures to come and so, I can have summer all year long.