It’s getting close to that time of year when we set our clocks back one hour, and for one night we lose a little more sleep than usual. It starts to get darker earlier in the day, and as the trees become more bare, and the skies more gray, it seems like maybe life has gone back a little, not just the clocks.
For me, my life seems to mimic the seasons: I feel rejuvenated and ready to tackle new challenges and opportunities in spring and summer, I vigorously clean out my apartment, and am more inclined to meet new people and try new things. And as fall is slowly rolling in, I’m retreating. In the literal sense of the word, fall is my favorite season, and always has been. I love the leaves, the comfort foods, the football, the hoodies and tights, and celebrating my birthday. But the real fall, the falling back, is what’s happening within me. I’m falling back into myself, away from everyone, away from everything. Like the dry leaves shuffling on the ground, I’m restless, waiting for the breeze to pull me in a new direction. Like the night that comes earlier, I’m feeling dark and cool, instead of bright and warm. I’m falling back.
It’s many things and it’s one thing, and I can’t decide. I’m wanting to leave this city and go somewhere completely new, but I love this city and want to stay. I’m happy at work but wondering what I want to do when I grow up. I feel the love of a few close friends, but feel the loss of others.
Between now and winter is the harvest. A time to gather, to nourish, and to share. I may be falling back, but I will rise for occasion, and look for warmth in that glowing orange harvest moon.