August 31 feels a little different this year.
Everywhere I look, people seem ready for fall. Pumpkins are showing up in stores, autumn recipes are making their way onto my screen, and people are already talking about sweaters, cooler mornings, changing leaves, and all the things they have been waiting for since the first really hot day of summer.
I understand the excitement. I like fall too.
I’m looking forward to opening the windows when the humidity finally breaks and planting mums outside my writing window. I’ll happily pick up an autumn book, make something warm for dinner, and notice the first morning when I walk outside and the air feels different than it did the day before.
But I’m not in a hurry to get there.
Maybe it’s because summer has always been the season I have a hard time letting go of. By the end of August, everyone else seems ready to trade it in, while I’m still looking around thinking we have some good days left.
The trees outside are still full and green. The afternoons are still hot, and the pool water is still warm. I can still walk outside in the evening without thinking about a jacket, and there is enough daylight left to make the day feel like it hasn’t quite ended when dinner is over.
A few days ago, I caught myself standing outside when a breeze came through. It was a small thing, the kind of moment that could easily pass without much thought. It moved through the trees, cooled the air for a moment, and was gone almost as quickly as it came. But I noticed it because those are the things I love about summer, the ordinary parts of it that are easy to overlook until you realize you won’t have them much longer.
Maybe that’s why I’m not quite ready to start calling this fall.
It isn’t that I don’t want September to come. I do. I know I’ll enjoy the change when it happens. I’m just beginning to realize how often we start reaching for the next season before the one we’re living in has actually ended.
By August, we’re thinking about fall. By October, Christmas decorations are appearing. We are always being given something new to look toward, and if we’re not careful, I think it becomes easy to live a few weeks ahead of ourselves.
I’ve done enough of that in my own life.
I’ve spent plenty of time thinking about what needs to happen tomorrow, next week, next month, or sometime down the road. There will always be another plan to make and another season coming, but lately I’ve been trying to pay more attention to the life that’s happening before I get there.
And right now, that life still looks a lot like summer.
It looks like sunlight across the backyard late in the afternoon and bare feet on warm concrete. It’s sitting on the pool steps with my feet in the water and realizing I’ve been there much longer than I planned. It’s hearing the trees move when a breeze comes through and watching the evening light slowly change before the sun finally disappears.
They’re such simple parts of summer, but I think that’s partly why I want to hold onto them.
Most of the time, we don’t realize a season is ending until it’s already beginning to change. We don’t always know that this will be the last evening we sit outside until nearly nine, or the last afternoon we decide it’s too hot to do much of anything, or the last time we get into the pool before the water becomes too cool.
One day we simply notice that something has changed.
The light disappears a little earlier. The mornings feel cooler. A few leaves collect along the edge of the yard. We close the windows at night instead of leaving them open, and somewhere along the way, we’ve moved into another season.
I think I’d rather let it happen that way.
I don’t need to rush summer out simply because September is arriving.
I can look forward to mums and cooler mornings while still being grateful for green trees and warm afternoons. I can read an autumn book while sitting outside in shorts. I can wonder when the leaves will start changing and still appreciate the fact that, today, they haven’t.
Maybe that’s what this last day of August is reminding me.
Looking forward to what comes next doesn’t require me to be finished with what I have now.
Tomorrow, the calendar will turn to September. Eventually the weather will follow, and when fall finally arrives, I’ll enjoy it for what it brings.
But for now, I think I’ll leave the pumpkins where they are, step outside, and enjoy whatever summer has left to give.
There’s still a little of it left.
I’d like to be here for it.
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